


A Dark Heart

by SarahW



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:00:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 26
Words: 140,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9066958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahW/pseuds/SarahW
Summary: After the Cell Games, Vegeta decides to leave the Earth. Will Bulma find the strength to find him and bring him back home?A story (very) slightly based on "Heart of Darkness" by Joseph Conrad and its film adaptation "Apocalypse Now".





	1. A Defeated Warrior

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello everybody! 
> 
> After being a voracious reader of fanfiction for quite some time now, I've finally decided to write... 
> 
> I would love your comments and opinions, but please take into account that this is my first fanfic. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy it...

Bulma entered the bath tub slowly and laid down, closing her eyes and sighing in relief. This was just what she needed after a long day filled with obligations in the lab and taking care of her little boy. A soft smile played across her lips when she thought of how big Trunks was getting. He was already crawling all over the place, proudly displaying the evidence of his Saiyan heritage through his unusual strength. The heiress was sure that her child would be walking in no time.

_Time really did fly…_

As she allowed the hot water to work its magic and relax her exhausted muscles, she couldn’t help but frown slightly…

Mirai Trunks.

He’d departed only a week ago, and the image of her son from the future remained still freshly imprinted in her mind. Deep down, she wasn’t extremely concerned about his safety, knowing how much stronger he’d become during the time he’d shared with them, fighting alongside the Z Warriors and training with his father in the Room of Spirit and Time. Still, a mother’s love was a mother’s love, and she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of worry within her heart. She exhaled shakily again, reminding herself that she was just being silly, and that everything would be all right in the end.

She grabbed a sponge and a vanilla scented soap bar and delicately lathered up her legs as she softly hummed Trunks’ favorite lullaby, smiling as she did. Who would have thought she’d end up becoming a mother? Bulma Briefs, the precocious little genius who’d been seeking adventure all over the world since she was a young teenager, was now facing motherhood, the greatest challenge of her life. Even though she desperately hoped she was doing a good job, she still couldn’t help the doubts that crippled her mind at times, especially considering she was practically on her own. She knew she had no right to complain, after all, she had her parents, who were spoiling that boy rotten and, of course, she possessed more money than she could spend in a lifetime. Nonetheless, there was an essential figure that was missing right now in Trunks’ life: a father.

Vegeta.

_Where the Hell was he?_

Every time she thought she knew what to expect from him, he’d surprise her all over again.

Bulma painfully recalled Vegeta’s behavior on the day Mirai Trunks left, taking a deep breath as her eyes burned with unshed tears, barely managing to refrain from crying over that selfish bastard again.

She could still remember the private moment father and son had shared. The proud Prince, dressed in human clothes, silently saying goodbye to the younger warrior. Her curious mind couldn’t help but wonder about the meaning behind the mysterious hand sign they exchanged. Was it perhaps a Saiyan symbol? She knew Vegeta would never tell her, and yet, in that instant, she’d been incredibly happy to see some kind of intimate connection between the two people who meant the most to her in the entire world.

Bulma could only hope that their child meant something to Vegeta. Of course, at the beginning she’d had her doubts, but then Yamcha had related the story of how angry the Prince had gotten when he’d witnessed his son die, and how he’d attacked Cell with a fury her ex-lover had never previously seen in the Saiyan warrior. It must have really been something if the scarred-faced fighter had chosen to disclose that information to her. After all, she was well aware of the fact that Yamcha had never been too fond of Vegeta to begin with.

She dropped the sponge and laid her head down wearily once more.

As it turned out, poor Yamcha hadn’t been the one for her, after all. Now it was almost hard to remember how damn sure she’d been when she was younger and she’d wanted to wish for a perfect boyfriend using the Dragon Balls. Her first encounter with the desert bandit had felt like destiny back then, and they’d certainly tried hard to make things work through the years. She’d been so close to marrying him after Goku opened his silly big mouth on the day of Mirai Trunks’ first visit. He’d wished her a _‘healthy and strong child’_ and her ex-boyfriend had taken it as a sign that perhaps they should settle down and have, in his own words, _‘a couple of kids together’_. After giving it some serious consideration, Bulma had given in to his wishes, rejecting his marriage proposal, but agreeing to the idea of conceiving a child.

Not only it didn’t happen, but during the first of the three years they’d been waiting for the arrival of the deadly androids, she slowly found herself falling for Vegeta.

Bulma sighed in despair again.

_She really knew how to pick them, didn’t she?_

Then again, it made perfect sense somehow. He was a proud Saiyan Prince, and she was a strong woman who was practically royalty herself in her world. It was madness, but it worked, or so she’d thought at one point.

The day Mirai Trunks had returned to his timeline, Bulma had truly believed, if only for a fleeting moment, that Vegeta was going to stay on Earth. It’d given her a glimpse of hope seeing him saying goodbye to their son, dressed in human clothing and silently staring at their baby boy when he thought she wasn’t looking but, merely a couple of hours after her son’s departure, he left without so much as a goodbye.

That had been a week ago, and there was still no sign of him.

The space ship remained firmly planted on Capsule Corp. ground, so there was no way he’d gone into space or, at least, that’s what she desperately wanted to believe. Her man was so full of surprises that he might as well have some secret ship of his own hidden somewhere. Still, Bulma thought it was very possible that her Prince was just brooding somewhere on the planet, perhaps trying to come to terms with the fact that he was now one of them. Not just a warrior, but also the father of a lavender haired baby boy who needed him and the guidance only he could provide.

Bulma stood up slowly and proceeded to rinse herself, carefully getting out of the tub and grabbing a warm fluffy towel, wrapping it around her naked form. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror, gently combing her wet hair and allowing herself a brief moment of vanity.

 _‘Not bad, Bulma Briefs,’_ she thought melancholically to herself. _‘You can still have any man you want’_. But she knew, deep down, the undeniably painful truth: she didn’t want just any man, and she wasn’t even sure if the man she wanted, the man she’d fallen in love with, wanted her back.

She swallowed a thick lump in her throat as she left the bathroom, turning the lights off and walking in the dark, humming her little boy’s lullaby again as the city lights dimly illuminated her bedroom from the distance. Bulma visited Trunks’ room one final time, just to make sure everything was okay, and she stood by the baby’s crib, clad only in her white towel, and staring at him. The entire house was asleep, and all she could hear was the soft breathing of her little love as she caressed his cheek delicately, smiling when his tiny lips pouted sweetly in his sleep. After making sure the baby monitor was working properly, she walked back into her bedroom.     

_And then she saw him._

As she entered the room, she quickly had to refrain from yelling in a brief rush of panic. There, sitting on her bed, was the figure of a man. He was hunched over, his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground.

_An image she’d never even thought possible..._

Vegeta, Prince of all Saiyans, looking like a defeated man.

“Vegeta?” she whispered.

There was no reply.

Carefully, she started to walk towards him and, all of a sudden, she perceived some movement.

The warrior raised his head slowly and looked right into her eyes.

_She looked back and, what she saw, shattered her heart into a million pieces…_

 


	2. A Silent Night

Bulma’s first, immediate thought was that this wasn’t Vegeta.

This wasn’t _her_ Vegeta.

There was absolutely no chance that the man sitting right in front of her could be the proud, strong warrior who’d stolen her heart and, yet, there he was, staring at her miserably with those dark, desolate eyes…

She took in his appearance, noticing that he was still wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing when they’d said their goodbyes to their son from the future. The only difference was how dirty they were, as if he’d been sleeping in a cave or somewhere far away from civilization. When Bulma examined his attire more closely, she was also surprised to discover that it wasn’t tattered, which could only mean that he hadn’t been training or exercising any kind of strenuous physical activity either.

He looked like a child.

_He looked like a sad, lost child…_

Bulma briefly halted her movements as they both guardedly stared at each other but, before long, she found herself walking again towards him, utterly hypnotized by his mysterious, magnetic presence.

She stood in front of him, clad only in her large white towel, looking down at him with unhidden but shy fondness in her bright blue eyes. Vegeta held her gaze for a few more seconds and then, unexpectedly, he broke eye contact and he slowly buried his head in her stomach. The heiress remained immobile in a rare state of complete shock, not quite knowing what to do or how to act. Never before had Bulma witnessed her Prince behaving in such manner, however, instinct soon took over, and the small female finally took action, gently hiding her hands into her lover’s surprisingly soft hair. She felt him release a deep, shaky breath he must have been holding for a while, promptly summoning that tight lump in her throat again.

Vegeta firmly wrapped his slightly trembling arms around her, as if he were afraid that she’d disappear, and she remained still, holding him protectively in her gentle embrace as she soothingly run her fingers across his scalp in a modest attempt at being a comforting presence, gradually feeling his strong, muscular body relax under her touch.

_He was destroying her..._

He was breaking her heart all over again and, inexplicably, she still found herself incapable of letting go of him.

The couple’s intimate moment stretched for a few more minutes, until Bulma’s nude, delicate frame couldn’t withstand the cool air of the night anymore and she shivered involuntarily. Her body’s reaction wasn’t lost on Vegeta, and he instantly let go of her, getting up from the bed and forcing a slightly startled Bulma to let go of him and take a few steps backwards, waiting expectantly for his next move.

The warrior stood in front of her looking like an apparition, like a dark, fallen soldier with hunched shoulders and lost eyes. Without warning, he removed her towel in one swift, smooth motion, leaving her vulnerably naked and picking her up in his arms as he walked towards the bed. Bulma, by now thoroughly overcome by her exhaustion and dizzy mind, didn’t move, allowing him to carry her in his arms and secretly wondering whether this was real or just a figment of her very vivid imagination.

Vegeta laid her down softly on the bed, carefully cradling her head and easing it into the soft pillows, covering her defenseless body with warm blankets and a tenderness the woman didn’t even know he possessed. He lay down next to her, rolling onto his side as she did the same, and both lovers simply looked into each other’s eyes for countless minutes in the dark of night.

By now, Bulma’s bright mind had already figured out that his awkward and unfamiliar behavior had something to do with the fact that it’d been Gohan, and not him, the final victor in the ruthless battle against the sickening monster who’d threatened them all.

She had imagined his defeat in combat would affect him somehow, that he’d brood for a while, perhaps destroying a couple of uninhabited islands to release some steam, and then he’d pick himself up, dust himself off and carry on with his training.

_Wasn’t that what he always did?_

_Wasn’t that what a warrior would do at all times?_

Bulma knew this wasn’t the first time things hadn’t gone his way in the battlefield, after all, he’d already lost to her friends during his first battle on Earth, he’d perished by the hand of his old Master in Namek, and he’d even suffered the humiliation of being beaten by Android 18; and, yet, he’d always kept fighting back, constantly striving to be the best and making her love and admire him madly for it.

Looking into those dark, subdued orbs, she could barely recognize the stubborn, implacable man that she used to basically obligate to get out of his beloved Gravity Room in order to take a much-needed rest from his daily, almost masochistic training sessions.

And suddenly it hit her…

He was broken.

_Her man was broken and she didn’t know how to fix him..._

A sharp sensation pierced her heart, a sorrowful, gloomy emotion beyond her control, and she pressed her body against his, holding him tight as she buried her face into his warm chest. She knew that the possibility of his rejection was still very real, but he surprised her once more by returning her embrace, encircling her tiny waist, softly but firmly, with one of his robust arms as he delicately caressed her slightly damp hair with the other. His grip was gentle but possessive, with a barely hidden hint of desperation that Bulma knew too well by now.

She was desperate to save him.

She wished to talk and comfort him or, she wondered, perhaps she could go the other way, maybe trying to anger or annoy him just to get a reaction out of him.

_Oh, how she missed their heated arguments…_

They both possessed a sharp tongue that would drive each other absolutely crazy, always ending up spending their nights together, passionately attempting to put down the blazing fire they’d both previously ignited.

Bulma wanted to scream, to cry, to howl, to desperately beg the Universe to bring his man back to her. She yearned to say a million and one things and, yet, the words wouldn’t come out. All she was left with, instead, was this tight oppression boiling inside her chest as her eyes stung with unshed tears.

No.

She couldn’t cry in front of him; if she ever did he’d know the true extent of the pity her heart was bursting with right now, and if there was one thing Vegeta despised, it was to be pitied.

Lying naked with her Prince in her arms, her feelings towards him became clear as water to her.

_This man that everyone feared, she loved._

_This man that most people loathed, she admired._

And this man, who had nothing and belonged to no one, she pitied. Dende helped her, she did. If only because she knew he’d probably never had a single person that truly cared about him in his entire, lonesome life and, now that he did, now that he had _her_ , he’d gone out of his way time and again in order to obstinately push her away.

Even now, captured in his embrace, an invisible wall was separating them. An impenetrable barrier made out of fear and anger, loneliness and hopelessness, she seemed to be incapable of penetrating and walking through.

_He was with her and he wasn’t._

_She could touch his body but not his soul._

So she held him, clinging to him as if her very life depended on it and, eventually, their drained, exhausted bodies gave in as they drifted off in each other’s arms into a restless sleep.

 

Bulma woke up a few hours later, shivering like a leaf, covered in cold sweat and under the strange impression that she’d awakened from a nightmare that she couldn’t fully recall.

All she knew was that something was wrong; something _felt_ wrong.

Gradually, she recalled the unusual events of the past night and her silent encounter with Vegeta, where no words had been spoken and yet, they’d ended up falling asleep together in a close embrace.

A quick look around her made her soon realize that her Prince was nowhere to be seen. His side of the bed was cold, and his dirty clothes lay abandoned on a heap on the floor. The sun wasn’t still very high in the sky, which meant he’d probably left before sunrise. It also meant she had time for a quick cup of coffee before her little boy woke up.

Bulma lazily got out of the bed, blushing slightly when she noticed she still had no clothes on and, after putting on an oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts, she walked downstairs into the kitchen, where she made a fresh batch of coffee and she poured herself a cup of the delicious beverage. She then stepped outside, where she walked idly across her home’s beautiful gardens, cherishing the refreshing sensation of the grass, still slightly damp from the early morning’s dew, delicately caressing her bare feet.

The earthling took a deep breath, closing her eyes and smiling softly. She absolutely loved this time of the day, that brief period of time before everyone else woke up, making her feel like the world was hers and hers alone and, leisurely, she opened her eyes and took another comforting sip of her warm drink.

_And then it happened._

Noticing something about her view felt different, Bulma blinked nervously in confusion several times, quickly gasping horrified at the sudden realization.

As a broken cup of coffee lay dejectedly on the ground, a rebellious tear rolled down Bulma’s cheek.

The space ship was nowhere in sight.

_Vegeta was gone…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one was hard to write... 
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading and for commenting on my first chapter! You guys encourage me to keep writing...


	3. An Internal Conflict

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A first glimpse into Vegeta's thoughts...

Vegeta stood silently in front of the tiny window of his ship with his arms crossed.

_Two days…_

It’d been two days ever since he’d abandoned the Earth and, yet, he still couldn’t make himself leave the blue planet behind.

Two days orbiting the planet.

_Two days without her..._

He was furious.

He was furious because, for the very first time in his miserable life, he found himself battling an internal conflict and he didn’t quite know what the outcome would be.

His life up to that point had always been fairly simple or, at least, as simple as a life full of chaos and destruction could be. As far as he could remember, he’d always had some kind of golden goal to motivate him through his darkest times, something to strive for that would save him from succumbing to the insanity which had always been his closest companion.

As a child, he’d wanted nothing more than to serve his people, showing reverence towards their ancient Saiyan legacy and make his father, King Vegeta, fiercely proud. These aims had remained strong, even during his first years under Frieza’s service and, only for a period of a few months following the news of the disappearance of his planet, had he experienced an emotional state of confusion and loss similar to the one he was battling right now.

Still, his circumstances had been vastly different back then. Except for Nappa and Raditz, he’d been alone during those earlier, frenzied times. Sure, he’d had his comrades fighting by his side, but he’d also lived with the unquestionable knowledge that they could be gone tomorrow and he’d live on.

He’d survive because he was a Saiyan Prince, more than just a mere, irrelevant Saiyan warrior, but the full embodiment of the most symbolic of his People’s legends, the strongest child born in a thousand years.

So, day after day, year after year, his goals had gradually morphed and evolved, and revenge eventually became his main obsession. He’d wished to avenge his people and himself by killing the tyrant who had exterminated both his planet and his race. Much to his shame, he had to admit that his old Master had almost destroyed him in the process too and, in a way, he already did, on the fatidic day his monstrous ki pierced through his heart, taking his life in the end.

But then he’d been mistakenly resurrected and brought back to Earth, admittedly, the most beautiful planet he’d seen in his lifetime and, of course, _she_ had appeared into his life.

_Bulma…_

She was the strangest creature that ever crossed his path, possessing the sharp tongue of a warrior and the insignificant ki of a house pet, oddly combined with an infuriatingly charming shamelessness and the class of a queen.

A shiver run through his spine as he recalled their last encounter, wondering _what the Hell_ had made him humble himself in front of her the way he had.

Right after his son’s departure to a different timeline, he’d spent an entire week flying restlessly around the planet, stopping only when absolutely necessary in order to hunt for food and get some sleep. He’d felt almost naked without his Saiyan armor, the one his little mate had designed and built _just for him_ , but he hadn’t been able to gather the courage to go back home and change into it.

Vegeta cringed all of a sudden as he realized what he’d just thought: home. What a cosmic joke that the planet he’d come to annihilate just a few years ago, the brutal battlefield where he’d suffered one of his most humiliating defeats had, ironically, become the place he called home. And it wasn’t because of its more than evident beauty, which he wasn’t stupid enough to deny, it was because of a certain blue haired woman who’d turned his whole world upside down and had chosen to give him a child.

Whatever had made that woman share her bed with him and bear his son, he’d never know; all he had was the undeniable certainty that he didn’t deserve it. The Saiyan had no idea as to what the Devil had crossed Bulma’s mind when she’d made such dangerous, foolish choices. Perhaps she’d thought that a child would trap him, or change him, and, if that was the case, he had no clue as to what exactly he was supposed to change into.

_Perhaps he’d been expected to grow into a devoted husband and father like Kakarot…_

Oh yes, what a damn hero that third-class clown had turned out to be, not only by sacrificing himself in battle, but by equally encouraging his half-breed spawn to finish the blasted job for him.

_What a glorious failure he’d proven himself to be in the end…_

The idea of an eleven year old brat being stronger than him was a disgrace, not only to himself, but also to his Saiyan people and heritage. During those last, lonely nights spent on Earth, he could almost swear he’d heard the disgraceful echoes of his father’s roaring laughter from the Gates of Hell itself.

So, in the end, he made his choice, elaborating an improvised but quite simple plan consisting on quietly flying into his room in the middle of the night, grabbing his armor and the scarce belongings he possessed and getting the Hell away from this planet but, as always, the shameful events that followed evidenced, once again, what a pathetically weak excuse for a warrior he truly was.

_Her lights were on…_

Bulma’s cursed lights were on, announcing that she was the only one awake in the entire household so, like a famished sailor following an enchanting siren’s call, he stood furtively on her balcony for a few minutes as he heard her bathe, basking in that sweet voice she used to sing lullabies to his son with, shamefully unable to help himself.

He closed his tired eyes and chuckled softly, knowing just how much his woman loved spending time inside that excessively large bath tub, soaking in the hot, soothing waters until her tiny hands looked like wrinkled little prunes. His chest constricted at the memories of the petite, blue haired minx inviting him to accompany her, and the gorgeous hellcat knowing that he never said no, for he simply could not resist her bewitching charms.

So, he’d remove his tattered armor, which _she_ had made for him, and he’d join her in the tub, where she’d sit right behind him, her perfect round breasts pressed tightly against his less than perfect scarred back, lovingly lathering up his broken body with that awfully sweet smelling soap of hers that made his nose itch, and he didn’t give a damn because she was there with him, and that was _all_ that really mattered in the end. She’d wrap her long, shapely legs around his compact waist and she’d talk, and talk and _talk_ about all sorts of meaningless topics which made absolutely no sense to him as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the feeling of her silky, creamy skin surrounding him. Every now and then, she’d giggle at her own silly little stories, and the girlish sound made his heart flutter.

He had to confess to never having experienced anything remotely similar to those intimate moments, which were growing more and more into an addiction, and _that_ was precisely the problem. Not only the fact that he relished his woman’s company and the overwhelming warmth she’d brought into his life, but that Bulma, for whatever reason, seemed to enjoy _his_ company too.

_The damn woman was insane…_

He heard her hum softly in the tub, his senses invaded by that all too familiar vanilla scent, deliciously blended with the warm, appetizing human fragrance which was all hers and that always used to drive him to the edge of insanity but, surprisingly, for the first time ever since he’d first laid eyes on her, he felt no arousal. He knew that, if he entered her bathroom in that instant, she’d welcome him with wide open arms, and yet, he couldn’t do it; and it angered him to no end that he couldn’t comprehend what was happening to him.

Vegeta heard her rinsing herself, unwittingly announcing that she was done with her prolonged bath and she was about to exit the bathroom. Against his better judgement, instead of leaving, he silently entered her room and sat on her bed. There was a brief pause and, before he knew it, the lights went off and Bulma was humming again as she walked carelessly in the dark.

The warrior’s flawless vision distinguished her fragile figure walking right next to him, without even detecting his presence, in the direction of their child’s room, and he shook his head lightly in disappointment. It never ceased to amaze him how clearly unaware of their surroundings earthlings usually were, and a tinge of fear passed through him, knowing that his mate and child would be left wholly unprotected when he was gone.

He overheard soft movements through the baby monitor Bulma had prudently installed on her nightstand, and he soon felt the woman’s minuscule but unmistakable ki walking right back into the room.

Vegeta desperately attempted to ignore the bewildering voices inside his head asking him to leave, to leave _now_ , with no tears or goodbyes, and he secretly wondered whether she’d cry if he announced her that he was departing. The raging Oozaru beast still lying dormant inside of him hated such pathetic, human sentimentality, but his vast ego desired to feel wanted, _needed_ and to believe that _someone_ , _somewhere_ , was actually going to miss his presence after his sudden disappearance.

_He truly was pitiful._

He sharply held his breath as she entered the room and she finally noticed him, covering her pretty mouth with one minute hand to hold back the scream of shock that had fleetingly threatened to be released. She then ceased her walking and shyly whispered his name, instantly evoking in his mind all of those times when she’d call, scream, beg and moan his blasted name in the throes of passion, and his chest ached in despair at the thought of never hearing his name pronounced by her full, ravenous lips ever again.

After a momentary pause, she walked timidly in his direction, because _that’s_ what she did, _didn’t she_? The damn woman was fearless and he greatly admired her for it. He raised his head deliberately and looked at her, his dark, unfathomable eyes penetrating her very soul, and what he saw in return told him that, for the first time, he hadn’t bothered to put up the impenetrable wall that he was so used to erect to better mask his emotions.

_He was broken._

He was the broken shell of a man, and the worst part was that he _knew_ it, and he didn’t care if _she_ knew it too; looking back, perhaps he’d _wanted_ her to know all along. Bulma was the most intelligent person he’d ever encountered, both intellectually and emotionally, and _maybe_ if she discovered just how utterly worthless he really was, she wouldn’t feel hurt by his absence in the end.

_She might even experience relief…_

As she stood in front of him, he couldn’t help but seek her warmth, and he buried his head in her stomach, miserably releasing a soft, shaky breath as he held her in his arms.

_Vegeta felt as if Bulma was the Sun and he was a frozen man._

_He was thirst and she was water._

So, he held onto her for dear life until her fragile human body shivered from the cold air of the night, and then he got on his feet and released her from her towel, feeling a rush of affectionate fondness that he’d never experienced before as she quietly stood still in his presence, raw and vulnerably naked.

After picking her up gently and carrying her to the bed, they both lay together, no further words exchanged. He simply stared for countless minutes into those shiny blue eyes, eyes that reflected his own sadness. Eventually, Bulma gathered him in her frail arms, bravely burying her head in his chest and making him incapable of doing anything other than returning her fierce but tender embrace.

 

Vegeta took a deep breath as he opened his eyes. The Earth was still there, right in front of him, mocking him with its gorgeous, luminous blue color.

_Blue, just like the color of her hair and Trunks’ eyes..._

The memories of her luscious, naked body, quivering in his arms were making his blood boil and, for a brazen instant, he thought that _perhaps_ he could still return, going back to her and taking all she had to offer and, _then_ , he could take some more. He knew with absolute certainty that she’d willingly give him anything he wanted, just like she always had, but even his tenebrous, broken heart wouldn’t allow it, for Vegeta knew the painful truth.

_She deserved better._

His Bulma represented every single thing in this world that was pure and honest.

_And he was evil._

He was pure, unadulterated evil and that _was_ the truth.

In the past there’d been times, as he’d laid awake at night watching her sleep, when he’d thought that maybe the possibility of redemption still existed for him and that, perhaps after the Cell Games, when he emerged victorious and triumphant he’d go back to her and he’d show her that he was worthy, worthy of having a mate, a son and a home of his own.

But she was light and he was darkness, so, he savored the last few hours they’d ever spend in each other’s arms watching his blue haired beauty sleep, wondering if she knew that their son’s tiny lips pouted just like hers in his sleep and, before the sun was up, he gently disentangled his arms from her soft, warm body, standing by her side for an instant, trying desperately to take a mental picture of her so he could keep her forever imprinted in his memory. He removed his clothes, walking into his old, barren room, where he put on his armor without even bothering to take a shower, encapsulating his few belongings and flying out the window and into the gardens. If he left right there, the loud noise from the ship would awaken the entire household, so, he encapsulated the ship and flew to the desert, enjoying Earth’s fresh atmosphere while he could, knowing that he was going to spend at least a few weeks breathing only recycled air. He then opened his space ship and took off, abandoning the planet forevermore.

Or so he’d thought, right until he realized that he had no place to go.

Vegeta uncrossed his arms, clenching and unclenching his fists anxiously as he sighed deeply, closing his eyes again and concluding, right then and there, that he had to move on with his life. So, he walked to the central console and he typed in some old familiar coordinates into the navigation system, smirking triumphantly as he did.

_The ghost of a plan had taken shape within the somber corners of his mind…_

 


	4. An Unexpected Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma receives a mysterious visit...

Bulma rubbed her tired eyes as she tried, hopelessly, to solve the equation her father had given her three days ago. Three days, and the solution still evaded her. She would have started to feel ridiculously stupid if it weren’t for the fact that she knew the reason behind her exhaustion.

Vegeta.

Ever since the warrior had abandoned the planet, she’d been incapable of getting enough sleep to be able to function properly. It didn’t help that her parents, and even her friends, had noticed the difference in her behavior and they couldn’t seem to be able to hide the pity in their eyes when they were around her.

And of course, there was her rambunctious little boy, who was getting stronger and more active by the day and it was driving her insane. He crawled all over the place, up and down the stairs, in the gardens… Everywhere! She’d been spending as much time with him as possible, especially considering how busy her schedule at the lab had been lately. When she was at work, her parents would take turns taking care of him, playing with their grandchild, trying to exhaust him. They’d even built a bigger swimming pool in hopes of teaching him how to swim so that the little demi-Saiyan would find yet another way to release his energy.

Nothing seemed to work.

The scientist had even called Chichi, whom she’d been really trying to avoid for a while, looking for some answers. After all, Goku’s wife had already raised Gohan.

To her disappointment, her friend had confessed never having had the same problem with her son in the past. Apparently, Goku’s kid had always been really calm and quiet, even as a toddler. This information filled Bulma with despair, and she hung up her phone, not before promising Chichi a visit in the near future.

A loud sound startled her and she run towards the living room. There, sitting sloppily on the floor, the purple haired boy was crying as he held a broken toy in his chubby little hand.

Ah yes, this was another one. Trunks’ toys didn’t seem to last much due to the unusual strength of the child. Bulma had even experimented with making some herself, trying to use stronger materials than the ones found in regular children’s toys but she hadn’t been very successful so far. The scientist looked down and she saw her baby boy stretching his arms towards her, silently asking to be held by his mother.

“Aww sweetie,” she cooed, “It’s alright. Come here…”

She held Trunks in her arms and she gently started to rock him as she hummed his favorite song.  This seemed to sooth the child. Soon he was looking sleepy, his thumb stuck in his mouth, sucking on it softly. Bulma lovingly wiped the few stray tears from his eyes and she walked into the kitchen thinking that perhaps some warm milk would do her baby some good. She snickered, her little boy was half Saiyan after all, and he had the appetite to prove it.

Just as she was entering the kitchen, she heard a familiar voice.

“Well, there you are dear! I was just about to come get you! Isn’t this a lovely coincidence?”

Bulma looked at her mother, wondering how was it possible for a person to be that damn cheery and happy all the time, especially considering that they were now officially living at a home where little Trunks was being raised without a father. She shook her head, trying to forget the gloomy thoughts that seemed to follow her wherever she went these days and she replied.

“What’s the matter mom?”

“Oh Bulma, always so distracted! Don’t you see we have a visitor?”

Her mother pointed out her finger towards the garden and Bulma quickly noticed who their visitor was.

“Piccolo?” she whispered.

“Yes! It’s that lovely young man! I asked him if he wanted to come in but he refused. He must be really shy…”

Bulma softly chuckled. She wouldn’t say that Piccolo was shy, it was more like he was the quiet broody type of warrior, just like Vegeta was…

“Well, let me go outside to try to find out what is it that he wants. Mom, would you take care of Trunks for a minute?”

“Of course I will! How could I not want to hold my favorite grandson?”

Bulma nodded her head and smiled sadly. Bunny’s favorite grandchild? More like the only one she’d probably ever have… Her mother extended her arms and Bulma tried to pass the baby to her, but Trunks wasn’t having it. He was practically asleep by this point and he was clutching his mother’s shirt tightly, as if he were afraid she’d disappear.

Bulma sighed and looked around her.

“Can you pass me that blanket please?”

“This one?” Bunny pointed at a baby blue blanket that was resting on one of the kitchen chairs.

“Yes,” Bulma replied tiredly.

Her mother gave her the blanket and she carefully wrapped her son with it, grateful that he hadn’t stirred too much. Baby Trunks had been very fussy lately and Bulma was really growing to appreciate every single moment of peace she could get.

Once she'd made sure her child was cozily wrapped, she exited the kitchen and she walked towards the garden, where Piccolo was already waiting for her.

“Hi Piccolo,” Bulma said in a tone that was somewhat shy. For some reason, even after all these years, she still didn’t feel completely comfortable around the green warrior. Perhaps it was due to the fact that she found him extremely hard to read, and that always made her a bit nervous.

“Bulma,” Piccolo nodded politely.

“Did I keep you waiting for long? My mom said you didn’t want to enter”.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it”.

Bulma nodded.

“Well, may I ask what brings you here? Did something happen to Gohan or Chichi?”, she asked worriedly.

“They’re alright. Everything’s fine at the Son house,” he replied courteously.

“Ah, that’s good to know… Um… Then to what do I owe this visit?”

“Dende wants to talk to you”

Bulma frowned slightly. Dende? The new Guardian of Earth wanted to talk to her? Why? What was going on here? Before she had time to ask any questions, Piccolo simply said to her “I think I have an idea of what he wants to talk to you about, but it isn’t my place to discuss it. Especially here.”

The blue haired woman nodded timidly in understanding.

“Does this mean that he wants me to go to The Lookout?”, she finally asked.

“Yes”, he said.

He looked at the child in her arms and he continued, “You can bring him with you if you want to, he seems to want to be close to you right now…”

The woman nodded again.

“Alright then, I’ll get my plane and I’ll go there right now. You don’t have to wait for me if you don’t want to.”

The green warrior nodded in understanding and he made a move to leave.

 “Piccolo?”, she asked again.

He turned towards her and he looked at her expectantly.

Bulma seemed to hesitate for a minute before finally asking, “Will you be there too?”

Piccolo nodded.

“I will. I’ll probably want to have a word with you too, if you don’t mind”.

“Oh, um… sure. I guess…”

“Then I’ll see you there”, and before she had time to say anything else, the warrior took off and left her, dumbfounded, standing in the middle of the garden.

 _‘What the hell was that all about?’_ , she thought…

After a couple of minutes, the scientist walked back into the kitchen, where Bunny Briefs was busy humming and in the process of baking something.

“Oh, there you are again sweetie! How did it go?”

Bulma sighed. She really was exhausted.

“Actually, I’m not sure mom.”

“Oh? And why is that, dear?”, Bunny chirped as she proceeded to beat some eggs in a large bowl.

Bulma stood there, lost in thought for a minute, until she finally said, “Look mom, I have to go somewhere. I’ll see you later, OK?”

“Oh, OK! You two have fun! I’ll have chocolate cupcakes waiting for you when you come back!”

She walked upstairs into her room and she picked up her case of capsules. Before she left the house, she took a quick look into the mirror and she frowned at what she saw: her eyes were swollen from crying all night. The redness had passed but she still looked like crap. Bulma sighed again. _‘Oh well…’_ she thought. _‘I guess one of the perks of being a single mother is not having to put taking care of your appearance first anymore…’_

Bulma walked into the garden, she threw the capsule at a safe distance and she got inside the plane, carefully holding her sleeping child in her arms. He was sound asleep now, and she thought that would allow her to put him in his little chair. But again, her baby refused to let go of her, so she sat on the pilot’s seat and she turned on the autopilot.

As the plane took off into the sky, Bulma tenderly kissed Trunks’ soft hair. The baby smiled and her heart fluttered.

Maybe everything would be alright in the end…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are going to get interesting very soon...


	5. A Conversation With God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma talks to God, literally, and we finally get some info on what Vegeta has been up to...

 

_Well, you see, Willard, in this war, things get confused out there._

_Power, ideals, the old morality, and practical military necessity._

_But out there with these natives, it must be a temptation to be God._

_Because the rational and the irrational, between good and evil._

_And good does not always triumph._

_Sometimes, the dark side overcomes what Lincoln called the better angels of our nature._

_Every man has got a breaking point._

_You have and I have them._

_Walter Kurtz has reached his._

_And, very obviously, he has gone insane._

[General Corman; _“Apocalypse Now”_ ]

 

 

Bulma landed her plane on The Lookout as softly as she could, she quickly looked down at her son and she gratefully noticed that he hadn’t woken up.

She got out of the vehicle and she looked around her. To her surprise, Mr. Popo and Dende were already waiting for her. In the distance, on the other side of the magical place, she saw a tall figure which she quickly identified as Piccolo.

The woman started walking towards them and she saw that both the young God and Popo were smiling kindly at her, she smiled back as she joined them.

“Dende! How are you?” she asked cheerfully.

“I am well Bulma. I hope you are doing well yourself”, the young Namekian replied.

 Bulma nodded and she put on her bravest face.

“Things are going quite well Dende, thanks for asking”. She then turned to Mr. Popo and she nodded her head politely. The young deity’s assistant nodded back in return and he looked at Trunks with a gentle smile.

“Would you like some tea, Miss Bulma?”, Popo asked.

“Oh, um, sure... That would be lovely. Thank you”.

“This way, please…”

Dende and Mr. Popo walked slowly towards the main building, with the blue haired woman following closely behind. When they arrived, they entered a room that was almost empty, except for a sofa and a small coffee table.

“Please, take a seat”, Dende asked her politely.

Bulma sat on the couch, still cuddling her sleeping child in her arms. Despite the kindness the two men were showing her, she couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable and a tad nervous. She had a bad feeling, like a knot in her stomach, but she couldn’t put her finger on why. All she knew was that this wasn’t a courtesy visit.

The young God took a deep breath and he looked at her.

“First of all, I would like to apologize for the trouble we are putting you through. I know you are a very busy woman and I’m sure you have many other things to do,” he said shyly. Bulma looked at him and she smiled again. It was hard to believe that this young man was the Guardian of the Earth now. She could still remember her first impression of him when they first met on Namek, how small and frightened he’d looked back then, and now here he was, holding a position of great importance and seemingly doing a great job at it so far. She wasn’t surprised Dende had become great friends with Gohan, since they were both young boys whose experiences, so early in life, had made them wise beyond their years.

“It’s OK Dende,” she replied. “I’m sure there’s a good reason for my presence here, am I right?”

He nodded his head solemnly, while he stared at the floor, and Bulma felt her chest constrict a little. So, she was right, there was something wrong going on, and judging by the person that had called her, it must have been something big.

“Bulma, I have called you in here today because this morning…”

Suddenly Mr. Popo entered the room, interrupting their conversation. He was carrying a tray with a teapot and two cups. He efficiently served his Master and their guest and, when he was done, he looked at the purple haired baby once again.

“Miss Bulma, would you like me to watch your child for you while you’re having your discussion with Dende?” he asked courteously.

Bulma looked at him for a second, dumbfounded, she looked at the young God almost in question and he nodded.

“Um, alright. Sure… But I’m afraid Trunks has been a bit clingy lately and maybe he won’t take it too well…”

Both men looked at each other mysteriously, as if they knew something she didn’t know, and Bulma felt herself getting more nervous by the minute.

Popo slowly extended his arms towards her and she gently tried to pass the baby to him, softly trying to open the tiny fists that were fiercely clutching her shirt. To her surprise, it worked.

Popo smiled at her again as he held the boy in his arms.

“Don’t worry Miss Bulma. I’ll take good care of your son”.

The scientist looked at him for a minute, still wondering how was it possible that Trunks hadn’t wanted to be held by her mother and yet, somehow, he’d trusted this mysterious man. She quickly smiled and she explained to him how there was a diaper bag in her plane where he could find a couple of bottles of milk in case her baby woke up.

“Do not concern yourself with such matters Miss Bulma. Everything will be alright”.

Mr. Popo left the room with the baby in his arms and Bulma turned back to Dende. She was shocked to see the young man fidgeting, looking even more nervous than she was.

She took a deep breath and she put a hand on top of one of his.

“Dende, please, what’s going on?” she asked anxiously.

The young God put his other hand on top of Bulma’s and he proceeded to talk again as he kept staring at the ground.

“Bulma, this morning I had a conversation with King Kai.” There was a brief pause before he continued.

“You know who he is, don’t you?”

“He is one of the other Gods, right? The one who trained Goku when he went to Other World for the first time”.

Dende nodded.

“Yes, you are correct. We… We talk sometimes…”, the young boy spoke slowly, almost as if he were trying to choose his words carefully.

“We converse about all sorts of topics. You see Bulma, I know what a great responsibility I have been given, and I want to do my very best to prove that I deserve such a great honor...”

“I’m sure you are doing a great job, Dende. We are very lucky to have you here on Earth”, Bulma said sweetly.

The young Namekian blushed slightly and he continued.

“I communicate with several Gods actually, they… They share their knowledge with me; I have learned so much about the mysteries of the Universe Bulma. So many things I… I never thought…”

He paused again while the blue haired woman listened closely to him. She frowned slightly and she noticed that the young deity seemed to feel overwhelmed about the vast knowledge that had recently been revealed to him; her curious scientific mind couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy and wonder, but at the same time, she knew that there were certain things that a mere human like her was not supposed to know.

“So, what did King Kai talk to you about?” she said, eagerly to finally find out exactly why she’d been invited to The Lookout.

“We… He… He told me…”

Bulma squeezed his hand tightly.

“What is it Dende? You can tell me anything. I won’t tell anyone I promise!”

He took a deep breath and he looked her directly in the eye.

“Vegeta”.

Bulma’s eyes widened and she gasped softly.  She could feel her lower lip tremble at the mere mention of the warrior’s name and she took a few seconds to swallow the lump in her throat and compose herself.

Dende looked at her in understanding, patiently waiting until she felt ready to continue their conversation. He patted her hand lightly, he let go of it and he took the cup of tea that laid completely forgotten on the table, silently offering it to her.

Bulma took the cup, privately cursing herself for her shaky hands. She was a proud woman after all, and a part of her felt deeply ashamed about the fact that the mere mention of the Saiyan’s name provoked such a reaction from her. She drank a sip of the warm drink and she left it on the table. She took a deep, shaky breath and she looked into Dende’s eyes again.

“Wha-What about him?”, she asked nervously.

“It has been a month since he left the Earth, has it not?”

Bulma sighed.

“A month and five days…” she replied sadly, deep down embarrassed about the fact that she had been counting the days with such precision.

Dende nodded again.

“Bulma, I know… I know that he didn’t say goodbye to you but… Did he…? Did he ever tell you anything about his plans for the…? For the future?”

Bulma shook her head softly.

“I’m afraid not. Vegeta…” She sighed again. “Vegeta was a mystery to me in many… In many ways…” She spoke shakily, trying to fight her emotions but losing the battle anyway.

This time, it was the young God’s turn to sigh.

“Bulma, the Gods of the Universe, well, we… We try not to interfere on the events and situations that take place in it unless it’s… Well, unless it’s absolutely necessary”.

Bulma nodded in understanding.

“Bulma, I need to ask you a question and I need you to be completely honest with me. You have my word, on my Honor, that whatever information you share with me will not leave this room…”

The scientist looked at him expectantly, awaiting his question.

“Do you think…? Do you think that Vegeta is an evil man?”

Bulma was shocked by the question, and she sat there, blinking in confusion for a moment. Finally, she closed her eyes and shook her head in a frustrated manner.

“Honestly, Dende? I don’t know how to answer that question…” She paused, trying to sort out her own thoughts before she continued. “I know… I know that he has done evil deeds. I have heard a few details about his past here and there and I, I sort of connected the dots and, well… I am sure that he has done terrible things, especially while he was under Frieza’s service”.

Dende nodded.

“That is correct.”

He remained quiet, waiting for her to continue expressing her thoughts, it was almost as if he only wanted to hear _her_ point of view on the matter, almost as if her opinion about the Saiyan were the only opinion that truly mattered.

“On the other hand…” She let out another shaky breath. “On the other hand… Oh Dende! I really don’t know what to believe anymore, you know? I saw a side of him that… It really made me believe there was a good man in there, somewhere.”

The young God remained quiet, allowing her to reach her own conclusions.

“I… I’m sure you know about what happened with Mirai Trunks”.

Dende nodded.

“Vegeta attacked Cell after he had attacked the future version of your son”.

“Apparently, it was more than that Dende. I have been told that he lost his mind, that he actually felt such fury at the sight of our… Our dead son that… That he couldn’t take it…”

She paused again, trying to control the tears that were already burning her eyes.

“Tell me Dende. Can an evil man love his own child so much?”

He looked at her silently, battling his own thoughts and asking himself how involved he should really get in the situation. Kai had advised him to talk to Bulma but to tell her as little as possible, but now he could see the poor woman was still extremely confused and completely unaware about the true extent of her lover’s feelings towards her and their son.

He exhaled deeply and he decided to give her a little push…

“Alright Bulma, here’s what I believe. I believe there’s good and evil in every one of us, but that… That when we’re born…” He shook his head, trying to make some sense of his ideas. “I think that when we’re born, we are fundamentally good”.

Bulma listened carefully to the young man.

“I do not know too much about the Saiyan race. What I do know is that they were a warrior race but… Well, let’s just say that they weren’t born to do what Frieza forced them to do.”

He looked at her and he softly asked her, “Did Vegeta ever tell you what he did under Frieza’s service?”

She nodded.

“He mentioned something about purging planets in Frieza’s name.” She paused. “I recall Vegeta’s face when he talked about it and I got the feeling that he was disgusted by it”.

“You are, once again, correct. I think warriors find it shameful to kill people indiscriminately, especially weaker races that can’t even defend themselves properly. Saiyans believed that the honor was in the fight itself, and the harder the battle the better, because then, when they won, they felt they had earned their victory”.

Bulma remained quiet, silently agreeing with the young man.

“I believe it is very possible that Vegeta was born with the instinct of a warrior, but not necessarily with the mind of a monster like Frieza was…”

The woman cringed at the idea of Dende, of _anyone_ , comparing Vegeta to that horrendous creature, and she couldn’t help but defend her man.

“Of course, there’s a difference! There has to be!”

Dende nodded, inwardly pleased at her protective reaction towards the Saiyan Prince. Perhaps there was still hope for them…

“I know Bulma. I was there on Namek, remember?”

Bulma was now staring at him, her eyes still burning with unshed tears, but still angry about what the Namekian had said before.

“I am sure I do not know your mate as well as you do, but I can assure you that the man that I saw when he arrived at my old planet and the man that ended up dying there at the hands of Frieza were two different people.”

There was another pause as Dende took a sip of his own drink. Then, he cleared his throat and he continued.

“I had already died by the time Frieza killed Vegeta, but even before that happened, I was able to witness a glimpse of humanity inside of him.” He looked at her. “Why do you think that happened, Bulma?”

Bulma stared at him, shocked by the question. How would she know? She wasn’t even there! She’d spent most of her time on Namek completely alone, abandoned by her friends while they were away doing whatever the hell they had to do…

The young God seemed to have read her frustrated thoughts and he proceeded to explain himself.

“I know you weren’t there to witness the battles Bulma, but what I’m trying to make you understand is that nobody knows Vegeta like you do”.

She couldn’t help but laugh a little at that affirmation; a small, desperate laugh. The day she understood Vegeta would be the day Hell froze over… She looked at Dende again, waiting for him to continue, but the young man remained silent.

She sighed and shook her head, finally realizing that he was trying to tell her as little as possible and that she would be the one that would have to try to find out exactly what was happening here.

“Alright,” she exhaled loudly. “If you want me to guess, which is all I can do when it comes to Vegeta anyway…” She paused, deep in thought. “I’d say that that final battle on Namek really changed him, and I’m pretty sure that it happened even before Frieza killed him.”

She took another sip of her tea and she continued, holding the warm cup in her cold hands.

“Vegeta never talked about that battle, but Krillin and Gohan shared some of their stories with me when we came back from Namek. I think… I think it was probably the first time Vegeta had fought alongside friends… I mean, I know he had fought with Nappa and Goku’s brother before, but…”

“Nappa and Raditz weren’t technically his friends though,” Dende said, interrupting her.

“What?”

“I was saying that those two men weren’t really Vegeta’s friends, they were his royal subjects, so their loyalty towards him probably came from their honor, from their obligation to serve the Prince of their race, but that doesn’t necessarily mean that they were his true friends.”

Bulma nodded, her heart breaking a little at the thought of Vegeta spending all of those years alone, joined only by two brutes that probably didn’t care much about him as a person anyway.

“And then you came along…”

“Me?”

“Yes Bulma. You came along and you invited him into your home, did you not?”

She nodded with a melancholic smile on her face; what the hell had she been thinking? It was her own fault that she had ended up in this situation, broken hearted and alone…

Dende continued.

“Why did you do it, Bulma? I must admit, I would have never invited a man like Vegeta into my own home.”

She sighed and she looked at him.

“Honestly? There were a lot of reasons, I guess… I had invited you guys to live with me, so I thought it wouldn’t be too, um, polite, not to invite him as well…” She laughed apprehensively. “Also, I guess I felt a bit sorry for him; he was all alone, with no place to go… I don’t know…” She shook her head once again. “I don’t know what I was thinking…”

There was another pause and she finally turned to Dende with a determined look on her face.

“Dende please, you must tell me what is happening here. Is Vegeta alright? To be honest, I don’t understand why you’re asking me all of these questions… I just…”

“He’s out there Bulma.” He looked at her intensely. “He’s out there, and he is lost”.

“L-Lost? I don’t underst…”

“He is not alone right now”

Bulma’s eyes widened at Dende’s words, and she couldn’t help but feel a sharp pain in her stomach; Vegeta, _her_ Vegeta, wasn’t alone?

The deity must have felt that the blue haired woman was about to get the wrong idea, so he quickly continued.

“He’s with a group of men. They’re _his_ men.”

He paused.

“Bulma, do you recall the first battle on Earth? When Vegeta fought Goku?”

She nodded.

“Can you guess what Vegeta’s plans had been at the time?”

She shook her head nervously; she was staring at the floor now, shaking, with those tears about to spill…

“I… I don’t know Dende… I… I hadn’t even met him yet back then… I guess he wanted to be the strongest, you know how he is… I suppose that has always been his obsession: strength and power and… I… I guess back then he probably just wanted to kill Frieza and take his place and…”

Bulma suddenly stopped talking and she looked at Dende, a frantic desperation in her eyes.

_‘No’_

_‘No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no…’_

She was panicking, openly crying now…

“Is… Is that what he’s doing Dende? Has he taken Frieza’s place?”

The Namekian gently grabbed her shoulders and he looked into her eyes, trying to remain as calm as he could.

“Calm down, Bulma, that hasn’t happened.” He paused, and then he looked to the side. “Not yet.”

Bulma softly removed his arms from her shoulders and she took the young man’s hands into hers. She looked at him and she noticed he was avoiding her gaze now. She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down, and she continued.

“Y-You… You said _not yet_. Does that mean…? Does that mean he hasn’t d-done anything yet?”

Dende looked at her again.

“I will not lie to you Bulma; some blood has already been shed.”

“W-Whose blood? Dende please!” She was yelling nervously now, and she felt as if she was going to lose her mind any minute now…

“We could…” He stopped. “We could say that it wasn’t innocent blood. Not yet anyway…”

Those words made Bulma feel a tinge of relief.

“Whose blood was it then?”

“Did Vegeta ever tell you what he did when he went into space looking for Goku?”

Bulma nodded in understanding. So, _that_ ’s what it was!

“I recall asking him about it back then, and he said he’d been getting rid of some of Frieza’s men. Is that what he’s doing Dende?” She asked with a hopeful voice.

 _‘That wouldn’t be so bad’_ , she thought. Through Vegeta’s words in the past, she’d gotten the impression that there was some chaos in space now that Frieza was gone, and maybe her Prince was just trying to get rid of some of Frieza’s men. Deep down, she felt grateful that he had, since she was sure those guys were scum anyway and the Universe would be a safer place without them.

Dende nodded, but unlike Bulma, he didn’t seem to believe that such actions were a positive sign.

“Bulma”, he said, “I must ask you again if you believe that Vegeta is an evil man”.

Bulma wiped the tears from her eyes, she took a deep breath and she looked at him.

“No. I know he isn’t. I can’t explain why or how Dende but… I know, deep in my heart that he’s not an evil man”.

“Then I must ask you Bulma, if a man without a truly and completely evil heart tried to take the place of an evil monster, what would _that_ do to him?”

Bulma looked at Dende, slowly pondering that question, and then it hit her.

It would destroy him.

If a man that wasn’t truly evil tried to do the job of an evil man, there would only be two possibilities for him and his future: he would either end up becoming an evil person himself or his mind wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

It would break him.

And the image of the warrior’s eyes, looking at her during that last night spent together told her that he had already been halfway there before he had even abandoned the planet.

“Dende”, she said, almost whispering now, as if she were sharing a secret with the young God, “Do you think Vegeta is trying to become evil?”

The boy looked at her and he shrugged.

“Bulma, I honestly do not know whether he’s attempting to become evil or whether he actually believes himself to be evil. All I know is…”

He sighed in despair and he paused again.

“Vegeta… Vegeta’s had a hard life Bulma. During my conversation with King Kai this morning I… I learned a few things about him that surprised me. I was able to comprehend a lot of the things he has done in the past, and I’m actually shocked that he hasn’t done much worse.”

Bulma kept listening, and she could feel her eyes begin to burn again. She knew her Prince had had a difficult life, but she didn’t know the true extent of the abuse he’d suffered, especially during his youngest years spent by Frieza’s side. Who knew what that vile creature had done to him.

“He’s strong Bulma. I believe he’s a strong man, not only physically but mentally as well. However, the mind has its limits Bulma, and the mind can only take so much before it breaks, and once it does, it’s very hard to put the pieces back together.” The young boy shook his head gently. “Very hard…” he repeated, almost as if he were talking to himself.

“What should we do Dende? Do you think there’s anything we can do?”

The young boy looked into her eyes again and he asked her the definitive question.

“Bulma, do you love him?”

She stared at Dende, shocked by the boldness of that question.

Love.

What a word…

Love wasn’t a word she’d used often in her life, particularly when it came to describing her relationship with her Saiyan Prince.

Love…

There had been times when, in the dark, as they lay together in bed after their heated lovemaking sessions, she had told him that she loved him. He’d never once reciprocated the sentiment but, at the same time, there had been little gestures that had told her that maybe, maybe he actually did feel something towards her. After her declarations of love, she would see a sparkle in his eyes, or the fingers of the hands that were embracing her clutch a bit tighter, possessively, as if he were trying to tell her that he loved her too.

Of course, given her current circumstances, Bulma was really starting to believe that it had all been in her head, that Vegeta had never truly loved her, that she had just been a pastime to him, just a warm and eager body to comfort him at night after his grueling daily training sessions. After all, he had abandoned her, hadn’t he? He’d left a woman and a son in order to go on some crazy quest for power, or whatever the fuck it was he was doing out there in space.

But right now, in front of the Guardian of Earth himself, Bulma had to be completely honest and admit the truth.

“Yes”, she whispered shyly, “I love him Dende. More than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life, except for my baby…”

“Then you must help him”.

She looked at him and she smiled sadly.

“Dende, I’m afraid you overestimate my importance in Vegeta’s life”.

“And I believe you’re underestimating it, Bulma”, he replied confidently.

The blue haired woman was quiet for a minute, trying to assimilate all the information that had been revealed to her.

“Even if…” she exhaled in frustration, “Even if I wanted to help him, how…? How could I possibly do that?”

“You must find him Bulma, and you must bring him back. I believe that, if anyone can reach his mind, and his heart, that would be you”.

She laughed.

This was insane.

 _He_ was insane.

“I can’t just go into space! I have a child, Dende! Also, I wouldn’t even know what to do or where to look for or… or… What I would actually do to convince him to come back even if I found him…”

The young God shook his head, disappointed in her lack of confidence.

“Come on Bulma! Think! Kai told me you’re actually responsible for some wonderful achievements! Didn’t you create the Dragon Ball radar that found the Dragon Balls countless times, thus saving so many people’s lives? Didn’t you build the Gravity Room that enabled Goku to get stronger and to defeat our enemies back on Namek? And what about the time machine that allowed Mirai Trunks to come back and save all of us?”

Bulma listened to the young Namekian talk excitedly about all of her previous accomplishments. Under other conditions she would have been proud of herself, but now, she felt scared and confused. Her current situation just wasn’t the same anymore.

“I hear you Dende, I really do! But…” she sighed, “My circumstances are so different now! I have a child who needs me…”

“And a child who needs a father too, don’t you think?”

 _Damn him!_ He was right of course…

“How could I just, leave him here? I just, I can’t even…”

“Bulma, you have people that love you and that could help you; your parents, the Son family… Don’t you think…? Don’t you think that, leaving your child for a short period of time would be a small price to pay if that meant he could grow up with a father and a mother?”

She understood what he was saying, but her maternal instincts were far too strong and soon Bulma found herself softly crying again as she shared her biggest fear with the young man…

“What if something happened to me? What if I don’t come back?” she whispered fearfully.

“You will. You can do it Bulma, I know you can. You’re a strong woman, why do you think Vegeta chose you as a mate?”

She smiled sadly through her tears…

“I don’t even know if we’re mates anymore, Dende… Or if we were ever mates to begin with… _He_ left me, remember?”

“Bulma”, he grabbed her hand and he squeezed it firmly, “I cannot force you to do anything you don’t want to do, just as I cannot fully understand what goes on in Vegeta’s mind. I have invited you in here today, in order to share the information I have with you; it is up to _you_ now to decide what to do with it”.

Bulma nodded and smiled timidly again.

“I understand Dende, and I appreciate what you, and the other Gods, are trying to do but, I just… I think I need some time to make a decision…”

Dende stood up and he nodded.

“Just follow your instincts Bulma. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing.”

He looked at the blue haired woman, sitting on that couch, crying and shaking and he kindly said, “Take your time to compose yourself. We’ll wait for you outside”.

Bulma observed him as he left the room. She felt her eyes swollen, burning, and her head felt hot and heavy. She was exhausted. She’d been exhausted even before this surreal day had begun, and _now_ she had to deal with this situation. A situation she feared because she couldn’t fully comprehend it.

She wiped her eyes with her hands and she quietly finished her tea. She knew she had to calm down before her baby could see her in that condition…

Trunks.

Her chest hurt at the thought of abandoning her baby just so she could go into some crazy adventure into space. Sure, she had always been an adventurous person, but now she couldn’t evade her responsibilities, could she?

She stood up and she started walking outside, where Dende and Mr. Popo were waiting for her. She surprisingly realized that her baby boy was wide awake, and he seemed to be in a good mood. As soon as he saw his mother, he extended his little arms towards her and he giggled. She smiled warmly and she picked him up, kissing his temple softly.

She turned to Dende and Popo.

“Thank you for your time, Bulma. I hope the information I have shared with you will be of some use.”

She nodded.

“Thank you for everything, Dende. We’ll stay in touch.”

She turned to Mr. Popo and she thanked him for the tea and for taking care of her child.

“It’s been my pleasure Miss Bulma. Good luck” he replied with that mysterious smile of his.

She turned her back on them and she proceeded to walk slowly towards her plane. To her surprise, her little boy’s mood had changed, and he was now hugging her tightly, burying his little face in her neck. As she was approaching her vehicle she noticed that tall figure standing next to it.

Piccolo.

She had completely forgotten about him.

She stood in front of him and she nodded politely.

“Piccolo”

“Bulma”, he nodded back.

“Can I help you with anything?”

The green warrior observed her carefully, and then he focused his eyes on her son, who was clutching her shirt tightly again with his chubby little fists.

“As a matter of fact, you do; I’d like to have a word with you now, if you don’t mind”.

He nodded his head towards baby Trunks.

“It’s about your son”.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boy! This was the hardest chapter I've had to write so far.
> 
> A big thank you to musicofthespheres for our private discussions about my writing. She even offered to beta-read this chapter, but my e-mail isn't having it today, so I've decided to be brave and publish it on my own.
> 
> I hope the chapter worked out. Also, we're going to learn some very interesting facts about baby Trunks very soon...
> 
> Happy New Year everybody!


	6. A Special Bond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma learns a few things about her child and Vegeta...

Bulma stood in front of Piccolo, waiting patiently for the green warrior to say what he had to say. It had been such a long day and she was completely exhausted, both physically and emotionally.

Piccolo noticed how drained she looked and he decided to get to the point as quickly as possible.

“Your child is strong, Bulma”, he said.

Bulma nodded.

“So I’ve been told. I recall Vegeta mentioning it before Trunks was even born”, she declared with a mixture of pride and sadness at the memory of the Prince talking about his son.

The Namekian stared at the child for a minute before he continued.

“How old was Gohan when I became his sensei? Four? Five years old?” he asked her.

Bulma hesitated for a moment, confused by the question, and she did some thinking.

“I believe he was about four years old”, she finally replied.

“Four years old, and yet your son is already far stronger than Gohan was at that age”.

The woman remained silent, looking at her baby boy that had fallen asleep again with his little head buried in the crook of her neck.

“Does that surprise you, Bulma?” he asked.

“Well, to be honest,” she sighed. “I guess nothing surprises me about those Saiyans anymore,” she said with a hint of humor in her voice.

“I see… And would you be surprised if I told you that Vegeta is far stronger than Goku’s ever been?”

Bulma shook her head in disbelief.

“I’d find that hard to believe, Piccolo. I mean… Vegeta has never actually won a fight against Goku, right?”

“I’m not talking about the results on the battlefield; I’m talking about pure, raw potential”.

Bulma remained silent, confused by his statement.

“Do you remember Mirai Trunks?”

She nodded. Of course she remembered her boy. She missed him so much!

“I believe that, under the right circumstances, he would have defeated Cell without much trouble”, he said confidently.

Bulma shrugged.

“I guess you’re right. Mirai Trunks didn’t get the best training, after all…”

Piccolo shook his head.

“Again, I’m not referring to his technique, but to the use of his full potential”. He paused for a second before he decided to continue.

“You see, Bulma, your son from the future had a very hard life.”

She nodded, and she felt her eyes burn again at the thought of her poor boy suffering so much.

“And so did his father”.

Bulma remained quiet, silently agreeing with the Namekian warrior. It was the second time today she was reminded about how hard Vegeta’s life had been, and she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt and regret at the thought. Objectively speaking, she knew it wasn’t her fault that both her mate and her son had gone through the pain they’d been through, but there was a part of her, especially regarding Vegeta, that felt that perhaps she could have done more to help him and that maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t be in this situation right now if she had learned more about him and his past.

Almost as if he had read her thoughts, Piccolo said “It’s not your fault Bulma. None of this is anyone’s fault. That’s just the way things happened”.

She nodded, swallowing her tears and trying to remain calm.

“I do not know much about the Saiyan race but, most of what I do know, I learned it through my experience as Gohan’s teacher and, later, from training with Goku and his son”.

He paused again, trying to gather his thoughts.

“The Saiyans are a strong race, I have known that from the moment I met Goku and we fought for the first time. However, through the years I’ve also learned that their strength is not purely physical, but mental as well… I have witnessed Goku communicating telepathically with his friends, and I do feel that his connection with his child is even stronger. It’s almost like, like some kind of bond”.

Bulma listened carefully to the Namekian’s words, silently fascinated by this new information that was being revealed to her.

“I also believe that, the bigger their physical power, the greater their mental abilities will be, which would mean… It could mean that both your child and your mate would possess great intuition and, if my ideas are correct, they’d probably share a strong connection with each other. Perhaps even with you, Bulma”.

“With me?” She replied in shock. “What do you mean?”

“I hope you don’t find me intrusive Bulma but I must ask you about how you’ve been feeling ever since Vegeta left the Earth”.

 _‘Like shit’_ she thought. She knew she hadn’t been able to get much sleep lately, and she’d had difficulty trying to stay focused at work. But, then again, wasn’t that how everyone felt after a breakup?

Again, Piccolo seemed to have read her thoughts.

“I know humans are deeply sentimental creatures that become attached to each other. I’m not asking you about regular human emotions, just if… If you’ve experienced anything unusual”.

Bulma paused for a minute. Maybe she had…

“I have nightmares. Some of them pretty bad ones. They leave me shaking when I wake up, and I can’t manage to remember exactly what they were about, but I always get the feeling that they were violent. I… I can’t fully explain it…”

Piccolo nodded in understanding and he kept staring at the woman expectantly.

“I think I felt it, you know?” she whispered.

“What did you feel?”

“The morning he left the planet… I remember waking up in cold sweat, almost in shock, as if something terrible had happened, but then I looked around me and everything was fine. Well, except for the fact that Vegeta was gone…”

She was talking in a really low voice now, almost ashamed about the fact that she’d been abandoned by a man; a man that had left without an explanation and without even saying goodbye.

“And what about Trunks? Have you witnessed a change in his behavior?” he continued.

“Trunks? Well, he’s just a baby, you know…” she said looking at her sleeping child again.

“He has been a bit difficult these days, to be honest; quite crazy sometimes. He crawls a lot, as if he had all of this energy inside of him and he didn’t know what to do with it… He’s also been breaking his toys.”

“Has he ever hurt you, Bulma?”

She shook her head firmly.

“Never”

“So your child is having trouble controlling his energy and his strength, and yet, he seems to have the emotional intelligence not to hurt you or your parents, is that correct?”

Bulma nodded deep in thought. She’d never seen it from that point of view. Could it be possible that her son’s intuition was stronger than she believed? She sighed sadly, realizing, once again, that she was raising a child that wasn’t fully human, and she wondered whether she’d be able to do a good job at it.

When she’d discovered her pregnancy, Vegeta had already left to train into space, and she was left alone to make the decision about whether she wanted to have this child or not. It should have been a hard decision, given her circumstances and considering who the father was. And yet, it had been extremely easy to decide to bear the Prince’s child. It just felt right, and even though she’d known at the time that she would probably be doing it all alone, she’d been confident somehow that everything would be alright. Now, she wasn’t so sure anymore.

“You’ve already done a great job, Bulma”, Piccolo said almost sensing her insecurities. “Mirai Trunks was an outstanding young man, and you’d raised him on your own in that timeline”.

“And yet something was off, wasn’t it?” Bulma replied. “There was an air of sadness about him, don’t you think, Piccolo?”

The green man nodded.

“At the time I thought it was because of all the horrible things he must have witnessed but now… Are you…? Are you trying to imply that growing up without a father affected him so much?”

“I’m just speculating here Bulma, but from my experience, Gohan’s progress was much greater when he trained with his father than when he trained with me. It’s almost as if Goku knew exactly what his child’s needs were and he knew exactly how to teach and guide him…”

“Mirai Trunks never had that, did he? I mean, he had Gohan but… Do you think it would have been different with his father by his side?”

Piccolo nodded again.

“It already was, actually. Trunks experienced a major transformation after spending time with Vegeta in the Room of Spirit and Time.”

Bulma exhaled in frustration and she clutched her baby a bit tighter, trying to control her emotions, and she felt her baby stir a little in his sleep.

“Did you see that?” the warrior asked.

“What?”

“Trunks’ behavior”

“Uh? Um, he does that sometimes when I hold him close.” She paused, suddenly feeling insecure. “Is that… bad?”

“Bulma, while you were talking to Dende, I observed Popo’s interactions with your child. He woke up shortly after you left him with Popo, and he was in a fairly good mood. Yet, when you came out and you held him, he got really close to you, and he hasn’t let go ever since”.

The blue haired woman’s eyes widened a little, and she considered Piccolo’s thoughts for a second.

“You think he’s looking for comfort?”

“Either that, or he’s actually trying to comfort you, Bulma; your child seems to be really in tune with your emotions”

The thought of her boy trying to comfort her brought more tears to her eyes, and she just stood there, not knowing what to say or what to do anymore.

“Bulma, if you decide to stay on Earth and raise him alone, I want you to know that Gohan and I will be there for you. I could try to help your child learn how to control his ki as he gets older. I’m sure it would be easier if his father was in charge of his training but, I’m sure things would work out in the end”.

“Thank you Piccolo. That’s… That’s very generous of you…”

“Don’t thank me. I wouldn’t do it just for you, or even for Trunks; I’d do it because this planet needs a new generation of warriors to protect it. Your child has enormous potential Bulma. It would be a shame to see it go to waste. It could even be dangerous for him not to know how to properly use and understand his ki.”

“Wait a minute Piccolo, if your theory is correct, then what about Goku? He knows how to use his power, and I’d say he’s been pretty good at it so far, but he never even knew his father”

“Goku was sent to Earth in a pod. I’m guessing he wasn’t even carried full term and he was put on some kind of incubator, so he probably had no time to develop any kind of bond with his parents. Did Vegeta ever mention anything like that?”

 _‘Of course!’_ She thought

“Yeah, I remember that. When Vegeta came back to Earth I was heavily pregnant at the time… He was surprised that I hadn’t had Trunks _removed_. That’s the word he used. I didn’t fully understand it at the time, but then he explained that Saiyan children were very rarely carried full term, except for babies from the Royal family, and not even all of them”

She chuckled softly at the memory of her Prince seeing her pregnant when he’d come back from space. He was shocked, but he was proudly trying to hide his surprise. She was pretty sure that he’d never witnessed a pregnant woman before and she honestly had no idea what he’d thought of her physique at the time. One thing’s for sure, he never tried to touch her back then, and to this day she didn’t know if it was because she repulsed him or because he was afraid for her safety. She hoped it was the latter…

“Do you know if Vegeta was carried full term?”

“He was. He mentioned something about his mother being a strong and highly respected warrior, and she earned even more respect after having survived birthing the heir”

She recalled that conversation with her man. It had taken place during one of those rare times where he would indulge her and he’d answer a few of her very curious questions about his planet, his race and his culture. Usually those conversations took place after sex, in the middle of the night, when her Saiyan Prince was really mellow…

Piccolo’s voice brought her back to the present.

“If both his parents were alive and around him during those early years, leaving with Frieza must have been a really traumatizing experience for him”

 _‘Shit!’_ Bulma thought. She’d never even considered that…

“So this… bond thing… It can be both a positive and a negative thing?”

The Namekian warrior shrugged.

“I guess. I’m only speculating here, but if my theories are correct, your mate has dealt with a great deal of pain, both physical and emotional, from a very early age. It’s very possible that the grief stalled his progress somehow”

 _‘What a shame’_ , she thought.

“So perhaps that’s Goku’s secret?” She said. “He never had that attachment, but he has always been loved, first by his adopted grandfather and then by all of his friends…”

Piccolo nodded.

“I believe the mind and the body are connected, and they both rely on each other on some level”, he replied.

“Bulma, whatever happens, rest assured that you’ll have our support. If you decide to leave, I could keep an eye on your child until you come back. I wouldn’t start his training, since I think that should be his father’s job, but perhaps I could try to help him release his pent up energy somehow…”

Bulma smiled at him.

“I appreciate that Piccolo, I really do; although I don’t know if I’ve made my decision yet. I mean…”

“What?” he quickly responded.

“Piccolo… Do you think he would even want me to try to find him?”

He smirked.

“I wouldn’t dare trying to guess what’s going on inside that man’s head. To be honest, he probably doesn’t even know it himself right now. But I’ll tell you this, I’m sure nobody’s gotten closer to him than you have, and I believe that you’re the only one that could help him figure out what is it that he really wants to do and what kind of person he could really become”.

She nodded, feeling flattered by the confidence both Dende and Piccolo seemed to have towards her.

“Well, thanks for the vote of confidence. I really hope you guys are right about all of this.” She stifled a small yawn. “Right now, if you don’t mind, I should probably go home and get some rest. Today has been a really exhausting day for me, Piccolo…”

He nodded.

“Of course, Bulma. Go home, get some rest and make your decision. Just remember…” he paused solemnly, “There’s a lot at stake here, not just for your future and that of your child. If Vegeta’s mind breaks completely, who knows what kind of chaos could unleash in the Universe. And we don’t even have Goku by our side to stop him anymore”.

He was right, of course. And she knew it. Bulma knew that the repercussions of Vegeta’s behavior could be catastrophic if he chose the wrong path.

She nodded again and she smiled kindly.

“I know Piccolo, I just… I guess I need to get some sleep and assimilate all of this…”

“Goodnight Bulma”

The scientist said her goodbyes and she opened the gate of her plane. She carefully entered the vehicle and she tried to sit Trunks on his chair, again, with little success. She sighed and she decided to simply use the autopilot and fly back home with the child in her arms. She sat on the pilot’s seat and, before she had time to close the gate, she was startled by Piccolo’s figure in front of her once again.

“What is it?” she asked nervously.

“Bulma, I know that it isn’t my place to ask you this but, may I ask…? What did Vegeta leave you?”

The blue haired woman kept staring at the Namekian in confusion.

“What are you talking about?”

“Dende told me that Vegeta had left something for you the day he abandoned the Earth. What was it?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awwww! Did Vegeta leave a gift for Bulma before he left?
> 
> In the next chapter, Bulma will find out about it...


	7. A Gift From A Prince

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma discovers Vegeta's gift...

Bulma’s plane landed softly on the gardens of Capsule Corp.

While she’d been previously about to fall asleep from exhaustion after her draining visit to The Lookout, she was wide awake now, after having spent the entire journey back home thinking about Piccolo’s words and about Vegeta. Had he actually left something for her before he left? And if that was the case, what was it? She knew the warrior was a man with few possessions, and he certainly had never been romantic enough in order to get her any kind of gift…

And speaking of gifts, her baby boy was also wide awake now, almost as if he had been feeding off her suddenly very nervous energy. He kept staring at her with curious eyes as she carefully got out of the flying vehicle and she walked into the dark towards their home.

Bulma entered the now empty kitchen, looking at the time and realizing it was way past dinnertime and everyone was probably asleep by now. Poor Trunks’ sleeping schedule was certainly going to be a mess that night. She looked at her baby again and she wondered whether he’d still be hungry. Three bottles of warm milk later, she had her answer. After feeding the child, she gave him a quick bath and she put him to bed. Thankfully, the baby wasn’t very fussy tonight, no doubt due to the fact that it had been a long day for mother and son. She stared lovingly at her sleeping baby for a few minutes, making sure he was resting properly and, after doing a double check on the baby monitor, she walked towards her laboratory.

After having done some thinking during her flight back home she realized that there was a way of discovering what Vegeta had done during his last hours at Capsule Corporation: the security cameras.

The Briefs’ were a very famous and wealthy family so, of course, they had a top of the notch security system in the compound. Thankfully, they’d very rarely had to rely on it, but still, it gave the entire family some peace of mind.

As Bulma approached the lab she realized that the lights were still on, and she knew that there was only one person, other than herself, that could stay awake in the middle of the night…

“Hi dad!” said Bulma, warmly greeting her father.

“Daughter” he replied absentmindedly, not even looking at her, completely absorbed in whatever it was he was looking at inside that microscope.

“I’m going to get the key to the security rooms” she said as she looked through some drawers.

Dr. Briefs stopped what he was doing and he looked at her, mildly surprised.

“Why? Did something happen?”

“Um, no… Everything’s fine dad, I just want to check on something”, she said slightly nervous.

“Don’t worry about it, dad”

“Alright then” the scientist replied as he redirected his attentions back to the microscope.

“There you are…” she whispered as she finally found what she was looking for.

“Goodnight dad”, Bulma said as she kissed her father’s cheek before she left the room.

“Goodnight, my child. Have fun…”

Bulma chuckled sadly as she closed the door and she walked through the hallways in the direction of the room that held the recordings of the security cameras.

 _‘Fun’_ , she thought to herself shaking her head. She was feeling anything but fun right now. If anything, the closer she got to the room, the more nervous she felt, waiting in anticipation to be able to find out if Piccolo and Dende’s words held some truth.

She arrived at the room, where she was greeted by one of their security guards.

“Good evening, Kevin” she said politely.

“Miss Briefs” the guard replied, nodding his head respectfully.

“Would you mind leaving the room for a few minutes, please? I’d like to check on something privately. You can take a break until I leave the room, if you want to…”

“Uh? Um, sure Miss Briefs. Thank you. If there’s anything you need, I’ll be waiting outside”

“Sure Kevin, no problem!” she smiled at him.

The man left the room and Bulma sat on the chair in front of a large screen that held the view of all the different rooms and corners of the Capsule Corp. grounds. She took the key she’d been holding in her hand ever since she’d found it at the lab, and she introduced it into the computer. She waited a few minutes, fidgeting as the program loaded, and she typed her secret code. At times like this, she was thankful that she’d decided to make the recordings of hers and Trunks’ rooms private, so that only she could go through the files. Especially now that she had no idea about what she was going to find in those videos.

The system finally loaded all of the files and she typed the exact date of the day Vegeta had left the Earth.

She gasped softly as the computer finally showed her the black and white security footage of that day, and she pressed the fast-forward button until she reached the recordings from the night.

There it was.

There was a figure in the balcony, standing quietly in the dark. She frowned, realizing there had been some light in the room coming from the bathroom; _her_ bathroom.

 _‘Fuck!’_ He’d been listening while she bathed!

She felt her eyes begin to burn and her chin tremble as she silently watched the events that had taken place that night. How he’d buried his head in her stomach, how they’d held each other, first with her standing up, and then laying down. She blushed slightly at the sight of herself naked, being held by the Prince, and her chest constricted at the sight of him covering her gently with the blankets.

At some point, she guessed she must have fallen asleep in his arms, and she just sat there, alone in that room, watching the footage of the both of them laying together in the dark…

All she could think of is that it felt right. It had always felt right being held by him, feeling his warmth against her body, and she briefly wondered whether it had felt the same way for him.

Suddenly, she saw some movement, and she realized that Vegeta had been softly petting her hair while she slept, and her heart broke a little when she witnessed her man gently kissing her cheek as well.

It was too much, all of it, it was simply too much, and she finally let her tears fall freely as she kept watching, hypnotized by the tenderness the fierce warrior had showed her that night. She sat there in confusion, unable to reconcile the man that held her protectively, with the man that had abandoned her without even saying goodbye, in order to take the place of some evil space overlord…

 _‘Stop it, Bulma!’_ she thought as she felt herself starting to surrender to self-pity. She hadn’t done it before, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to do it now. She wiped her face with her hands, forcing herself to calm down and to stop crying, and she pressed the fast-forward button once more, in order to see what else had taken place that night.

And then it happened.

At some point, Vegeta had delicately let go of her, he’d stood up, and he’d stared at her, completely immobile, for a few minutes. Bulma then saw him slowly undress himself and walk out of the room in his underwear. She lost sight of him for about fifteen minutes, and then, she saw the figure of the Saiyan Prince walking back into her room, while she was still asleep in bed.

He was now wearing his tattered armor, and she realized that it wasn’t one of the ones she’d made for him, but the one he’d been wearing when he’d arrived on Earth after his resurrection. The one he’d been wearing when Frieza had pierced his heart…

She saw him standing by the bed again, staring at her for a couple of minutes, and then he sighed deeply and he opened the drawer of her nightstand. And then she saw it. It was a small white box, and the blue haired woman saw the warrior introduce it carefully into the drawer and close it silently.

“Oh, Dende…” she whispered in shock.

The young God had been right: Vegeta had left something for her!

She felt butterflies in her stomach and all she wanted to do right now was to go back into her room and find out what her Prince had left for her. But she couldn’t resist to keep watching until she’d see him leave.

Bulma witnessed her man looking back at her and slowly approaching her nude figure. He made sure her body was completely covered by the blankets and then he buried his nose into her hair, inhaling her scent, and softly kissing her forehead before he finally left the room. To her surprise, Vegeta hadn’t used the balcony in order to exit. He’d actually used the bedroom door, closing it carefully as he left.

Bulma sighed, feeling a sense of despair at the sight of the warrior’s figure finally leaving her home. She took a deep breath and she made a move to leave the security room. But, just as she was about to remove the key from the computer, she saw some movement on the screen again.

He was in Trunks’ room.

A tear rolled down the scientist’s cheek as she looked, dumbfounded, at her Prince entering their child’s bedroom. He stood by his crib, staring at the boy, and he frowned. He then proceeded to remove one of his gloves and, almost fearfully, he caressed Trunks’ cheek with one of his rough fingers. She zoomed into the footage and she saw her baby pouting softly, smiling in his sleep.

And then, she witnessed something she’d never seen before.

Vegeta covered the child’s body with the blanket that lay in the corner of the crib, no doubt a as a result of Trunks stirring in his sleep. She watched in awe as the Prince moved his lips, as if whispering something to his child, and he placed one of his large hands on top of the baby’s tiny head. He bent down and he kissed his soft hair. And then, he walked towards the door, looking back at the child briefly, before he disappeared from their lives forever.

Bulma just sat there, with her head in her hands and her elbows on the table, trying to assimilate all that she’d seen and attempting to calm down before she left the room and the security guard could see her like this.

“Fuck it!” she said as she finally decided to stand up. She closed the files and she removed the key from the computer. She wiped her face again and she opened the door, where she was greeted by the guard that was in the process of smoking a cigarette. The man’s smile faltered a little when he looked at her face, no doubt red and swollen from all the crying.

 _‘Who gives a shit?’_ she thought as she walked towards her room. So, what if people saw her like this? She’d been a mess from the time that man had abandoned her, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise that she’d be looking like this now, would it? Right now, the only thing that mattered was getting into her room. And as she kept approaching it, she kept feeling more and more excited about what she’d discover in there.

Bulma arrived at her room and she opened the door, softly closing it behind her. She knelt in front of the nightstand and she took a deep breath. She opened the drawer and she saw the box. It was white and shiny, as if it were made of some kind of very polished stone that she couldn’t recognize. She opened the tiny golden latch with trembling hands, and she gasped when she saw the object that lay inside.

It was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen.

She slowly approached it to the lamp, trying to examine it a bit closer, admiring its beauty, almost afraid to touch it. She run her pale fingers softly over it and she closed the box delicately, holding it against her chest with both arms.

She decided that this was all too much for her, so she carefully stood up, still clutching the box, and she left her room, walking once again towards the lab.

Dr. Briefs was sitting at the table, taking some notes about the discoveries he’d made with his microscope, when the door opened slowly. He kept his head buried into his work as soft steps approached him…

“Daddy?” a soft, trembling voice asked.

“Yes?” he replied distractedly, still focused on his notes.

A pair of pale tiny hands placed a white box in front of him and he frowned. He looked to his side and he saw his daughter, shaking, red face and puffy eyes. She was openly crying now and the doctor couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen his daughter like this.

“Bulma! What’s the matter, dear?” he asked in a state of shock.

She couldn’t even talk, so she pointed with her head in the direction of the object she’d placed in front of him, silently begging him to open it.

He stared at the box for a minute and he cautiously opened it, revealing the object inside.

There, resting on a velvety burgundy cushion and hanging from a thin silvery chain, he saw the most beautiful pendant he’d ever seen.

It was oval shaped, made of some kind of royal blue stone, and in the middle, a bright star-shaped stone that looked like a white diamond, shone proudly.

The doctor took the object in his hands and he moved it towards the nearest light, examining it with scientific eyes. He looked back at his daughter with curiosity.

Whatever this object was, it wasn’t from Earth.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awww, sad and sweet...  
> In the next chapter, Bulma will finally make a very important choice...


	8. A Decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma has a conversation with her father and she finally makes a life-changing decision.

Dr. Briefs sighed and he removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. It had been a long night indeed, he thought as he finished his third cup of coffee.

He stared at the results of the tests that he held in his hands: it was official, the stones and the metals the pendant was made of were not from this planet. Not only that, but the test he run in order to try to find out how old it was, told him it was approximately 320 years old, give or take. Of course, he couldn’t be entirely sure, given that the materials weren’t even from Earth, but he was pretty sure that it was an ancient jewel.

“Oh, dad…” Bulma sighed tiredly.

The doctor looked at her daughter, convinced that he’d never seen her like this before. He was used to the blue haired woman being brave and confident, and yet here she was, looking sad and insecure. He patted her hand softly, trying to offer some comfort.

She’d told him everything about her conversation with Dende and Piccolo, from Vegeta’s whereabouts to Piccolo’s theories on Trunks and their special “bond”. The whole thing seemed crazy, and yet, when she tried to put all the pieces together, certain things made sense.

“So, have you made your decision?” he asked patiently.

“I don’t know dad… There’s a big part of me that wants him back, you know?” she said softly, almost in a whisper.

“Then, what’s stopping you, child?”

Bulma exhaled in frustration, staring at the pendant his father held in his hand. It was hard to believe that her Prince had been capable of making a gift to her. And it wasn’t a small present either; her instinct told her that the beautiful jewel had some kind of special meaning to him.

“Honestly, dad? I’m confused. I just…”

“You just, what?” he prodded her, trying to encourage her to continue.

“Well, how do I know he even wants to come back to me? We don’t know much about his current situation, but what we do know is that he’s out there, and he still seems to have some kind of thirst for power…”

“Or so he believes”, her father said, thoughtfully.

“What do you mean? Are you trying to imply that he doesn’t actually want to take Frieza’s place?”

“Bulma, all we can do right now is to speculate but, perhaps we should consider the possibility that the young man has gone back to his old goals simply because it was the choice he felt the most comfortable with”.

She listened carefully and she nodded. If someone could offer her a different perspective, that was her father.

“Change is always hard, right? Even if it’s a positive change, simply because change implies a new situation and new things are always scary…”

Bulma chuckled.

“Vegeta scared? That’s a new one…” she said mockingly in disbelief.

“I’m serious, Bulma. You said yourself that he lost his mind when your boy from the future died, right?”

“Yeah, he did…” she replied sadly.

“Then, we know that he’s not some heartless monster…”

“Of course he isn’t, dad!” Bulma said, offended.

The doctor snickered, happy to see his daughter defending his son-in-law.

“He kissed him, daddy…” she whispered, in a voice so low that the old man had trouble hearing her words.

“What?” he replied, confused.

“Trunks, dad, I saw him in the video from the security cameras. The night he left, Vegeta… He went into the baby’s room, he whispered something to him and he kissed Trunks before he left…”

“Well, I’ll be dammed…” the doctor said, genuinely surprised this time.

Dr. Briefs had never fully understood Bulma’s relationship with the Saiyan Prince. Yes, he’d always believed that there was something else behind the impenetrable façade the young warrior constantly displayed but, he hadn’t witnessed any kind of warmth exuding from him either. For all he knew, her daughter’s relationship with Vegeta had been purely physical, based on sex alone. When the blue haired girl had announced her pregnancy, both he and his wife had been extremely supportive of the heiress, mostly because they were excited about the idea of finally becoming grandparents, but also, because in spite of Bulma’s crazy adventurous nature, he’d always trusted his daughter’s intelligence and, especially, her intuition regarding the people she’d brought into her life through the years. He strongly suspected that Trunks had been the result of an unplanned pregnancy, but his girl had always been confident, almost proud, of the fact that she was carrying the Prince’s child. Perhaps all this time, she’d known something about the warrior nobody else knew.

Dr. Briefs cleared his throat before he continued.

“Well, there you have it. You know that he cares about you two… Maybe… Maybe he’s just afraid of these new circumstances and he doesn’t know how to handle it.”

Bulma nodded.

“So, what you’re trying to say is that he’s simply going back to the only thing he knows?” she asked. _‘How terrible’_ she thought to herself, her heart breaking at the thought of pain being the only thing Vegeta had ever known, both inflicted by him and to him.

“Perhaps he doesn’t even believe he deserves happiness, Bulma”, he said, staring at the ground, still deep in thought.

The woman felt her eyes burn again, and she swallowed another of those damn lumps she’d been feeling in her throat lately…

“I suppose it’s possible, dad… I mean, I’ve always believed that Vegeta’s had a hard life, but Dende pretty much confirmed it to me today, and apparently, it’s been even worse than I thought… He also…” she paused, almost afraid of talking about such things… “He also did some pretty bad things under Frieza’s service…”

Dr. Briefs remained quiet, trying to refrain from judging the young man. On one side, he didn’t want to even try to imagine what kind of life the Saiyan had lived before he’d entered their lives, but on the other hand, he was proud of the fact that someone capable of such evil deeds could still have a chance to redeem himself, here on Earth, with his brilliant daughter and his gorgeous grandson.

“If he is capable of feeling emotion”, Bulma continued, “then he must have a conscience too… I mean… He is a proud man, dad, and I doubt that he’ll ever apologize about any of the things he’s done. In some ways, it wasn’t even entirely his fault… I really believe he was almost like a slave to Frieza, although he’ll never want to admit that either…”

“If that young man has a conscience, then…” the doctor continued, following his daughter’s train of thought, “then he must certainly know the difference between good and evil, especially after having spent some time on Earth, with us. If a man knows he’s done terrible things, how could he possibly believe he deserves something good to happen to him?”

“Do you think he believes Trunks and I are something good to him?” she asked shyly.

Bulma’s father felt something tight in his chest at the sight of seeing his child so insecure about her value in Vegeta’s life. His daughter was a proud woman, and even though she’d never discussed her feelings towards the Prince before, he was starting to believe she truly and deeply loved him, especially after having witnessed her behavior ever since the warrior had left the planet. He took a deep breath and he stood up in front of her, he stretched his arm, silently asking her to take his hand and to stand up in front of him, which she did.

“Baby, come here…” he walked through the lab, with a silent Bulma following him, still holding his hand. He stopped when he reached a mirror that hung on one of the laboratory’s walls. He turned towards her and he gently grabbed her by her shoulders, moving her until she was standing in front of him, looking at herself in the mirror.

“How could a man not miss someone like you?” he asked her with a proud smile.

Bulma felt her chin tremble, and a rebellious tear fell down her cheek.

“Daddy…” she whispered…

Dr. Briefs took the pendant that he’d been holding in his hand the entire time, he opened its clasp and he lovingly hung it around his daughter’s neck.

“Wherever this comes from…” he whispered back “it must be extremely valuable to that man… Besides,” he smiled again, “it matches your eyes… It’s almost as if it had been designed just for you…”

That made Bulma laugh through her tears, a good, honest to God, laugh.

The old man fatherly kissed her cheek and he whispered in her ear.

“Go get him, princess…”

She smiled and she turned around, giving her father a fierce hug.

“Thanks, daddy…” she whispered again.

Dr. Briefs hugged her back, until he finally let go, he nodded and he said, “Everything will be alright in the end, you’ll see… Now go get some rest, tomorrow we’ll start preparing your new ship, alright?”

Bulma nodded, almost feeling like a little girl in front of her father.

“Alright dad,” she said, kissing him again on the cheek.

“Goodnight”, she said as she walked towards the door.

“Goodnight, Bulma”, the doctor replied, stifling a yawn and scratching his little black cat almost absentmindedly, already thinking about tomorrow’s work. There was much to be done…

Bulma walked through the hallways towards her bedroom, thinking that talking to her father had been the right choice. Even though their personalities were so different, his being the calm, quiet scientist type, and hers the loud and passionate kind, she’d always had a special connection to her dad and he was quite good at helping her sort out her ideas and think clearly. She stopped when she reached her baby’s room and, despite her exhaustion, she couldn’t help but enter it one last time to see that everything was all right.

She stood by the crib and she gawked at Trunks, smiling softly and shaking her head as she saw that he’d managed to remove his blanket once again. As she reached for the baby blue blankie, the memory of Vegeta doing the same came back to her, and she felt those damn tears come back again. She tucked in her son and she knelt by the crib, carefully touching one of his little hands with her finger and gasping softly when the baby grasped it firmly. She simply stared at him, allowing her tears to fall once again.

She cried for her child, for she knew that, if Piccolo was right about the bond and about the baby’s intuition, Trunks was probably going to have a really hard time with both of his parents gone. She cried for Vegeta, and the possibility of her man really believing that he didn’t deserve to live a normal, peaceful life with his mate and his son. And she cried for herself, because for the first time since she could recall, Bulma Briefs was afraid, and she had no idea what kind of difficulties she’d have to face.

Suddenly, she stood up and she wiped the tears from her face with newfound determination. She took a deep breath and she softly clutched the pendant that hung from her slender neck. And at that moment she made her decision: the Gods help her, she was going to find her Prince and bring him back home, where he belonged.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well folks... It looks like Bulma's gonna try to find her man...
> 
> In the next chapter, Bulma will prepare her trip and we might find out if someone's going to join her in this new adventure...


	9. A New Generation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma visits an old friend...

Bulma knocked at the door of her friend’s little house in Mount Paozu as she held baby Trunks in her arms. While she waited patiently for Chichi, she realized that it had been a long time since she’d last visited, and she felt a tinge of guilt course through her. Apparently, her child seemed to be feeding off her nervousness, since he was wide awake, watching her with curiosity while he played with his mother’s hair.

Suddenly, she heard some steps approaching her and Goku’s wife opened the door.

“Hi, Bulma!” she greeted her.

“Hi!” Bulma replied as she gave Chichi a friendly hug; “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?” she continued.

Chichi nodded and she made a welcoming gesture, encouraging the scientist to enter. Bulma gratefully accepted the invitation and she walked through the small living room until she was able to take a seat on the old couch.

“I’ll bring us some tea”, Chichi said politely.

Bulma smiled and she nodded in acceptance. While she waited, she took the time to observe her surroundings. It always surprised her how humbly her friends seemed to live, certainly a big cry from her luxurious and busy life, and she briefly wondered whether Chichi would feel unsatisfied or even bored with the simple life that she was living. Perhaps that might have been the reason why she kept pushing Gohan towards an academic life, in order to rise beyond their current circumstances. Before she knew it, the raven haired woman had come back with a teapot and two cups.

“Boy! Trunks sure has grown since the last time I saw him”, Chichi said, cooing the baby and making him giggle.

Bulma grinned, she took a sip of her hot drink and she felt her smile falter a little as she took in her friend’s appearance. She didn’t look well. She appeared to be tired, and she was actually wearing makeup, no doubt in order to try to conceal the dark circles under her eyes. For an instant, she felt tempted to ask if she was OK, but then she thought that it might be impolite to ask such things, especially considering that the reason was probably the fact that her friend was missing her deceased husband.

“Is he walking already?” Chichi asked.

“Uh? Um… no, not yet. But Trunks has been really active lately, and I think it might happen soon” she replied.

“It will, I’m certain. Saiyan babies develop fast and they become quite independent at an early age… I’m sure Vegeta will want to start training him as soon as he starts to walk”, she continued.

Bulma took another sip of her tea, trying to control her emotions. Obviously, Chichi wasn’t aware of her current situation.

“Well,” she started, “Vegeta did mention that Saiyan babies begin their training as soon as they can walk, some of them even learn how to fly before that, but I don’t think Vegeta’s going to train him anytime soon, anyway”.

“Oh? And why is that? I thought after the Cell Games Vegeta had started to show an interest in his child” Chichi cautiously said, having the feeling that something wrong was going on.

“Um, well, Vegeta… he kind of” she sighed tiredly, “He kind of left about a month and a half ago…”

“What?! Are you serious? Did he tell you when he’ll be coming back?”

Bulma shyly stared at the floor and she shook her head, trying to hold back her tears.

Goku’s wife nodded in understanding and she didn’t ask any more questions. She put her hand on top of her friend’s and she rubbed it in a comforting way.

There was a silence as both women drank their tea, and it hit Bulma that, if someone could understand her current situation, that would be Chichi. After all, they’d both had the misfortune of falling in love with a couple of emotionally stunted alien warriors, and both women surely knew what it felt like being the second most important thing in their men’s lives, fighting being the first one, of course.

As Chichi unsuccessfully stifled a small yawn, Bulma took it as an opportunity to finally try to find some answers about her friend.

“Are you alright, Chichi?” she paused briefly, unsure about whether she should continue or not, but her concern towards the woman made her carry on with her questions.

“I hope you don’t take it the wrong way, but you look tired, are you OK?”

Her best friend’s wife exhaled in frustration and she shook her head. Then, she looked at Bulma with a sad smile on her lips.

“It’s that obvious, uh?”

“What’s obvious?” the blue haired woman replied with curiosity.

“Well… I was actually trying to keep it a secret for as long as I could, since it’s still really early, but…” she sighed again, “I guess you could keep the secret for me, right?”

Bulma felt her concern begin to grow. So there _was_ something wrong going on with Chichi… Her guilt came back with full force, knowing that she shouldn’t have stayed away from the Son family for so long, especially after Goku’s death. Ironically, that was the real reason why Bulma hadn’t visited her friend’s family for so long. The death of her best friend, whom she’d considered a little brother for so many years, had affected her deeply. She still didn’t fully understand the reasons why he’d decided to remain in Other World, and she could only hope that Goku had really known what he was doing when he’d made that decision.

“Bulma,” Chichi whispered, pleadingly holding her friend’s hand, “You have to promise me you won’t tell anyone…”

Bulma squeezed her hand delicately but firmly.

“Of course, Chi, you can tell me anything”, she said softly.

“I’m pregnant”

The scientist remained silent, dumbfounded, and she blinked a few times as she tried to assimilate the news.

“Wow, Chichi!” she finally said, “That’s… great! Congratulations!”

The black haired woman nodded and she smiled, and Bulma’s heart broke a little as she saw her dark eyes fill with unshed tears. Maybe this wasn’t such great news?

“Dende, Chichi…” she whispered, “Are you alright? You aren’t happy about it?”

“Oh, no!” she replied quickly, softly touching her abdomen. “It’s not that, it’s just that…”

Goku.

Of course; _‘How could I be so stupid?’_ Bulma thought. What woman would be happy about having her dead husband’s child? It certainly was a less than ideal situation.

“Oh Chichi, I’m so sorry…” she said as she got closer to her friend, sitting next to her and holding her with one arm as she held her boy on the other.

Chichi buried her face in her neck and Bulma felt some moisture on it as Goku’s wife allowed her tears to fall now.

_‘Shit!’_

Bulma kept soothingly rubbing Chichi’s back, and she remained quiet, letting her friend cry and release her emotions freely. She felt a knot in her stomach and she experienced a brief moment of déjà vu as she recalled the day she’d discovered she was pregnant with Vegeta’s child. Her man had also been far away from home back then, but at least she’d had the certainty that the Prince was eventually going to come back to Earth, if not for her sake, at least for the sake of his promise to take part in the fight against the androids. But now it was different, now her friend knew her husband was never coming back.

Bulma felt her child move and she realized her little boy was trying to hug Chichi as well.

“Aww, baby… Do you want to hug Chi too?” she said lovingly.

Her words made the other woman stare at the child and smile softly.

“May I?” she asked Bulma.

“Of course! Be my guest…” the heiress said as she carefully put Trunks in Chichi’s now opened arms.

Trunks hugged Goku’s wife and he giggled, making both women grin. It was as if he knew what to do to make them feel better.

“Chichi, whatever you need, you just have to ask…”

The black haired woman nodded.

“I know Bulma, and I really appreciate that, but I’m doing OK I think… At least, considering the circumstances… It’s just…” she sighed, “I guess this pregnancy is already feeling a bit rougher than my first. Maybe it’s because Goku isn’t here. I don’t know…”

“Yeah, I know… I’m guessing it’s still early, since you’re not showing.”

“Yes. I’m only about eight weeks pregnant. I visited my doctor last week and he said everything’s fine. I also had to tell Gohan, although he already suspected something was going on because of the morning sickness. It’s been pretty bad…”

Bulma understood what the other woman was talking about really well… Her first three months of pregnancy had been hard on her body, to the point where she spent entire days resting in bed and she even lost some weight due to the fact that she had no appetite and that whatever she ate didn’t last long inside her body anyway… I was only after the first three and a half months that she started to feel well, really well actually, and she felt her desire for food increase.

The door opened all of a sudden and Gohan entered the house, closely followed by Piccolo. The young Saiyan was carrying a huge fish and his sensei held a huge basket filled with what seemed to be some kind of wild berries. By this time both women seemed to be in a better mood, and Bulma noticed that Chichi was trying to put on a brave face for her son’s sake.

“Bulma!” the young boy said happily, “I didn’t know you were here! We went fishing, look!” he said, proudly lifting the large animal with a bright smile that was just like his father’s.

Bulma smiled.

“Wow, Gohan! That is quite a fish! I’m sure your mom is really proud of you!” she said as she ruffled the kid’s hair.

Gohan offered her another brilliant grin and he looked at the baby.

“Hi, Trunks! Wow, you’re so big!” he said clutching the little boy’s hand. The baby giggled and he stretched his arms towards him.

“Can I play with him for a while, mom?” he asked.

Chichi nodded.

“Sure, just make sure you come back in time for lunch”

“Sure, mom!”

Gohan picked up the baby and he went outside, followed once again by Piccolo. But before the green warrior left the house, he gave Bulma a questioning look, almost as if he was wondering about whether she’d already made her decision or not. Bulma looked at him and she nodded, letting him know that she’d talk to him later.

Both women stayed inside the house, talking and sharing their little stories. Bulma noticed that Chichi really seemed to show a lot of interest about what life in the city was like, and she enjoyed the heiress’ juicy tidbits of gossip about some of her parents renowned friends. She figured that the life of the rich and famous looked like a different world to someone like Chichi, and she indulged her with as many tales of the metropolis as she could. Every now and then, she’d look out the window, where she saw Gohan and Piccolo playing with her little boy, well, if you could call making little Trunks chase tiny balls of ki “playing”. The scientist was amazed at how happy and engaged her child looked, and she felt her chest constrict at the possibility of Vegeta not being the one that would eventually train the purple haired boy.

“Dende! It’s so late!” Chichi suddenly said. “I must start making lunch. Would you like to stay, Bulma? I’m sure there’s plenty of food for all of us.”

Bulma shook her head.

“I can’t Chi. I should really get back home. There’s a project I’m working on and I don’t have much time to waste…”

The other woman nodded politely.

“I understand,” she said slowly standing up, “I’ll let you go back to your busy life…”

“Oh, it’s busy alright!” she chuckled. “Anyway, thanks for everything Chichi, I hope I’ll see you again soon…”

“Can you ask Gohan to get inside so that he can wash before lunch, please?”

“Sure thing.” Bulma said, and she reached Goku’s wife for a hug. “Stay strong” she whispered in her ear.

Chichi squeezed her back and nodded.

“You too, Bulma. Don’t lose hope, maybe Vegeta will come back. You never know with those Saiyans…” she smiled sadly.

The two women said their goodbyes and Bulma exited the little house, walking towards Gohan and Piccolo. To her surprise, Trunks had finally stopped chasing the tiny ki ball and he looked unusually sleepy. When the baby saw her, he extended his arms towards her, silently asking to be held again. She indulged him and she brought her baby into her arms as she turned to Gohan.

“Well young man, your mom wants you to wash before you two get to eat that big fish you caught…”

Gohan smiled and assented.

“Are you leaving, Bulma? You’re not staying for lunch?”

“I can’t kiddo. I’ve got a lot of work to do… I’ll be visiting you guys again as soon as I can, alright?” she promised.

The young boy gave her a hug and he waved goodbye before he run into the house. Bulma waited until the door was closed and she turned towards Piccolo, whom had been silently witnessing the conversation, no doubt waiting for Gohan to leave in order to talk to the woman.

“How is he doing, Piccolo?” Bulma said, seemingly deep in thought.

“Gohan?”

“Yeah…”

“He’s doing alright I suppose. Given my little theory about the Saiyan bond, I was actually expecting him to do a lot worse”, the green warrior replied.

Bulma smiled shyly and she looked him in the eye.

“I think it’s because he has you, you know?”

The Namekian raised an eyebrow in question.

“Aww, come on, Piccolo! You must surely know by now that Gohan sees you almost like a second father…” she giggled, amused by the sight of the large man blushing.

Piccolo cleared his throat before he continued.

“Perhaps… Although I believe that the fact that Gohan’s going to be a big brother soon has something to do with his behavior as well. It’s almost as if he has already accepted that he’s the man of the house now”.

Bulma grimaced at those words. In moments like these, she actually felt anger towards Goku and his inability to fully understand the emotional consequences that his actions had on other people. For a man that was so intelligent on the battlefield, he sometimes behaved like a big child.

“Did you already know, Piccolo?”

“About what?” he asked in confusion.

“About the pregnancy. Did you know Chichi was pregnant when we last met on The Lookout?” she asked again.

“No, I didn’t. I suspected that Goku’s woman had some kind of mild human illness at the time. I only started to feel the boy’s ki a few days ago.”

“You already know it’s a boy?!” Bulma asked in surprise.

The warrior nodded.

“Yes. It’s male, and quite powerful already, although not as strong as your son.”

He thoughtfully looked at Trunks once again, who had already fallen asleep in his mother’s arms.

“Trunks is unusually strong Bulma. He can already handle small amounts of ki”.

“Is that what you guys were doing with him while I was inside the house with Chichi? I thought you were playing some kind of game with him…” she said as she affectionately caressed her child’s soft hair.

“I suppose to your child it might seem like a game, but it could be a pretty effective way to teach him how to handle ki and to help him release his pent up energy. Haven’t you noticed how calm he looks now?”

She nodded and she sighed sadly.

“So you were right. He needs his father to help him learn how to control his energy…”

“That would be the ideal scenario, Bulma.”

The heiress exhaled in frustration and she picked up the capsule she kept in her pocket. She opened it and she released it at a safe distance, revealing her air vehicle.

“My ship will be ready in about a week”

The green man smirked.

“So, you’ve finally made your decision.”

“Yeah… I had a conversation with my father and we discussed the things we all talked about in The Lookout. Don’t worry, he’s trustworthy, whatever he knows stays in the family…”

“I understand Bulma, it’s quite alright.”

“I told him about your Saiyan bond theory and I’ve already warned him about how difficult things could be for Trunks when I leave the planet. I also told him about your offer to try to help my baby while I’m gone, so feel free to come by whenever you want. You’ll always be welcome at our home.”

The warrior silently nodded in agreement.

“Piccolo”, she whispered, “If… if anything happened to me…”

“Nothing’s going to happen, Bulma. Have faith.” He said firmly.

“I know but… It’s just… If anything happened to me, I want you to promise me that you and Gohan will teach my child everything he needs to know in order to be a strong warrior and to be able to use his full potential…”

“You have my promise, Bulma”, he declared solemnly, “but again, you have nothing to worry about. Goku used to talk about you from time to time, and if the stories he shared with me are true, I’m sure you’ll be just fine.”

Bulma chuckled melancholically.

“Well, someone has to bring that Saiyan back home. I figured I’d at least give it a try… Right?”

She proceeded to walk towards the plane but she suddenly stopped as she recalled something.

“By the way”, she turned again towards the Namekian, “he gave me this,” she said clutching the blue pendant than hung from her pale neck.

Piccolo’s eyes widened in curiosity and he slowly approached the woman.

“May I?” he asked, looking at the jewel.

She nodded, and soon the warrior was softly holding the pendant, examining the stone with curious eyes. Finally, he released it and he looked into the woman’s eyes.

“Does it have some kind of special meaning to you?”

“Not really. My dad and I run some tests in the lab and we found out that the materials are not from Earth. It also appears to be quite ancient, possibly more than three hundred years old”.

 _‘Well, well’_ he thought with a smirk, _‘Who would have thought the Prince of All Saiyans was that sentimental…’_

As if reading his thoughts Bulma said, “Please, don’t tell anyone about it. If it’s something that has some kind of emotional value I doubt Vegeta would be happy about people finding out…”

“Don’t worry, Bulma. Your little secret is safe with me”. And if she didn’t know who she was talking to, she’d swear there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Alright then, I gotta go, I have much work to do if I want to leave as soon as possible.” She paused, as if she was forgetting something. “Um, by the way, it’s better if you don’t tell Chichi about my trip, she doesn’t need the stress in her condition. Also, if anything happened to her, feel free to let my parents know and they’ll be able to help her. I know she’s a proud woman…”

“Do not concern yourself with such matters Bulma. Bringing Vegeta back should be our first priority right now,” he said with conviction.

“Alright then. Take care Piccolo…” Bulma said as she entered her vehicle. Before the door closed she quickly asked, “Will you come to see me before I leave?”

He nodded.

“I’ll be there”.

The scientist smiled and she waved goodbye. Holding her child in her arms, she set the autopilot, she closed her eyes and she tried to relax for the first time today. She could have tried to put Trunks in his little chair, but she kind of wanted to hold him as much as she could right now. After all, who knew for how long she’d be gone and how successful her trip would really be.

As she flew back home, she couldn’t help the slight feeling of guilt she had in her gut. Yes, she should actually be pissed that her plan hadn’t worked out. After all, that was the main reason why she had decided to finally visit the Son family, in order to convince Chichi to allow Gohan to join her in her new adventure. But as soon as she looked at the poor woman, she hadn’t had the heart to ask such a thing, and she hadn’t even told her about her future trip into space.

She felt like an idiot. No, she felt like a selfish idiot. Now, holding her baby, she realized that she didn’t have the right to ask a mother to give up her son just so he could help fight someone else’s battles. It was hard enough that Gohan now seemed to have the responsibility of protecting the Earth, especially considering the fact that Goku’s son had never really seemed to have the heart of a warrior, and he only fought whenever he felt that he had no other choice.

So it seemed it would be just her and Krillin. She knew her old friend wasn’t as powerful as a Saiyan, but he certainly was one of the strongest humans she knew, and his presence next to her would make her feel a bit more secure. She was surprised that it hadn’t taken her too long to convince the man to join her in her trip; to be honest a part of her had actually thought that he’d try to convince her to give up on the idea. She hadn’t given him all the details about Vegeta’s current circumstances, only that Dende had told her that it would be a good idea to bring the warrior back to Earth and that she also wanted him back, especially for Trunks’ sake and because she still believed that the warrior could officially become one of the good guys and act as one of the protectors of their planet. Her friend had agreed with her and he hadn’t asked too many questions, and Bulma had the feeling that deep down he’d known that one of the main reasons for this mission was that she loved Vegeta and she missed him too, but that she was probably too proud and stubborn to discuss her feelings in public. She’d always been like Vegeta in that way.

As Bulma’s plane was getting closer to Capsule Corp., her phone rang. It was her father.

“Bulma?”

“Yes dad, what’s the matter?” she asked worriedly. Her father very rarely called her unless something was going on.

“Um, well, I was wondering… Uh, when will you be home?”

“I’m on my way dad. I can already see our house. Why? What’s going on?”

“Uh, we have a visitor…” the old man said uncomfortably, and then he whispered, “he’s one of your friends and he’s not happy…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well... We've found out that a new Saiyan will be born and now we also know that Krillin will join Bulma in her adventure.
> 
> In the next chapter, Bulma will have a very heated conversation with that angry friend that just visited her and she'll finally begin her space journey...


	10. An Old Flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma has a very heated conversation with an old "friend"...
> 
> WARNING: There will be some colorful language in this chapter. Nothing major but, you have been warned...

Bulma quickly walked into the kitchen, where her mother was busy as usual, and she asked her if she could take care of Trunks for a while until she found out exactly what was going on. Bunny Briefs gladly accepted the task and the blue haired scientist hurried into her lab. Before she’d even entered the place, she could already hear the voice of a very angry man that seemed to be yelling at her father.

_“What the hell Mr. Briefs? How can you let her do this??!!”_

She cringed, instantly recognizing the voice, even before she joined the two men in the laboratory. Oh yeah, she knew that voice alright…

“Yamcha?” she asked in bewilderment as she finally entered the room.

Her old lover quickly turned towards her, shocked to see her in there. He’d been so consumed by his current feelings of rage that he hadn’t even noticed her ki approaching both men.

“Bulma!” he yelled. “How could you? Why are you doing this? I... I can’t even…!” He sounded nervous and tremendously upset.

Bulma turned towards her father, who seemed to have been able to remain calm in spite of the young man’s harsh words. It was certainly one of the many qualities about her father that the woman admired, his ability to never lose his cool under any circumstances. She figured that such quality was a very important feature in a scientist that dealt with pressure and failure on a daily basis. The heiress, on the other side, had just entered the room and she was already starting to feel irritation show its ears… She turned towards her father, silently asking him to leave them alone. Dr. Briefs nodded.

“I’ll leave you two kids alone” He said calmly, and he cleared his throat. “I’m sure you have many things to discuss privately”.

“Thanks dad. I’ll see you later…”

The doctor nodded and he slowly walked towards the exit, softly closing the door as he left the lab.

“Seriously, Bulma! What the fuck? You’re leaving and going into space? And you didn’t even tell me!” He carried on furiously, completely oblivious to the frustration that was apparent on her face.

Bulma took a deep breath, one hand on her waist and another one pinching the bridge of her nose, and she mentally counted to ten before she said something she’d end up regretting later. She had been here before, of course. Especially towards the end of her relationship with the scarred faced human, when all they did was fight and make-up, until things got to a point where the fights happened way too often, and the make-up sex just wasn’t cutting it. And now here she was, having a dreadful sense of déjà vu. No, she couldn’t deal with this crap. Not today. She opened her eyes slowly, both hands firmly on her waist now, fearlessly looking into her ex-lover’s eyes and she said in a low but menacing voice.

“Yamcha, I love you dearly, but I’m not in the mood for this shit right now. You wanna talk? Let’s talk. But sit down and show me some fucking respect or, Dende help me, I’ll kick your ass out of my house. Right. Now.”

The tone of her voice certainly got his attention and the man stared silently at the blue haired woman, shocked by her reaction. This heated moment had also brought him some memories, of course, but her response had only served to remind him that the woman standing in front of him wasn’t his woman any longer. In the past, she would have been quick to engage and she’d always be the one that would end up yelling the most, but the Bulma that was stoically standing in front of him, wasn’t his Bulma anymore. He sat down on one of the lab chairs, crossing his hands in front of him, suddenly feeling a sense of shame at his irate behavior. The woman quickly followed him and imitated his actions. They both just sat there, next to each other, in silence, trying to cool down. Of course, she was the one who finally broke the awkward silence.

“Alright,” she sighed tiredly, “what’s all this mess about?”

“Krillin called me, Bulma. He asked me something about my preparations for the trip. I guess he assumed I was going too or something…”

Bulma nodded quietly, silently wanting to murder Krillin and his big mouth. In a way, she couldn’t blame him, since it had been her fault for not warning him not to say anything to her ex-boyfriend about her plans. She’d been afraid exactly of this situation, and it was something she really didn’t feel like dealing with at the moment.

“So, that’s what this is all about? You’re angry because I told Krillin and I didn’t tell you?” she asked cautiously.

He looked at her, his anger reappearing quickly, together with a hint of something else that Bulma instantly recognized as jealousy.

“So, it’s true? It’s fucking true, isn’t it?! You’re really going to try to find the bastard!”

“Watch it, Yamcha!!!” she furiously cut him. “You better watch your goddamn mouth when you’re talking about Vegeta in front of me!”

He snorted incredulously.

“So, you’re still defending him? After what he’s done to you? He left you, Bulma! He fucking left you and Trunks!!! And this isn’t even the first time! He also abandoned you when you got pregnant!” he yelled, his fingers aggressively squeezing the border of the lab table, his knuckles turning white by the pressure.

“You don’t know shit, Yamcha! And never fucking forget that, you hear me?”

He laughed in disbelief.

“I know enough! I mean, look at you, Bulma! This shit is ridiculous! You’re just going to drop your child and go into space, so that you can try to find the Prince of all Assholes!”

Oh no, he didn’t…

“I’m not dropping my child, you idiot! He’ll stay safe here on Earth with my parents. Also, Piccolo is gonna be around if you must know…”

“So, Piccolo knows too??!! What the hell, Bulma? I know we both have a history but I also thought we were friends!”

Bulma exhaled in an attempt to calm down again…

“Yamcha”, she said calmly, “That’s precisely the reason why I didn’t tell you. I knew this was going to happen. I _know you_ really well, remember?”

The man looked at her, also trying to leave his latest outburst of rage behind…

“Gods, Bulma! I just…” he shook his head in confusion, trying to gather his thoughts. He sighed and he continued.

“I’m sorry, alright? You’re probably right… I mean, I know we said that we could be friends but… I just… This shit is hard for me, you know?”

The woman nodded, deep down feeling sorry for him. He looked like a kid, staring at her with those puppy eyes that used to work oh so well in his favor in the past, but that only made her feel pity for him now. She’d always known the break-up had been hard on Yamcha, despite the flirting with other girls and the occasional infidelity, she’d always known, even then, that she meant more to him than all of those other skanks combined. Still, it wasn’t enough. It just wasn’t meant to be. She still remembered the look in his eyes when she told him about her pregnancy, a look of sadness and pure betrayal. The look of someone that would always be wondering about how things might have been…

She held his hand, reminding herself that this man was someone that had meant the world to her for years, since she was a sixteen-year-old kid…

“Look Yamcha, I’m not… I’m not expecting you to understand all of this, OK? But you know me goddamn it! You know I’m not some stupid fool, right?” she asked expectantly.

“Yeah, I know… I mean… I know you’re smart Bulma, but… You can… You can also be so damn impulsive sometimes. Come on! You know that!”

He was right, of course. She’d always had an adventurous spirit. After all, what teenage girl, from a wealthy and renowned family, would leave all luxury and safety behind in order to try to find some legendary magic Dragon Balls, when all of her friends that shared her age and social class were busy shopping and throwing parties in the comfort of their own lavish homes? Bulma Briefs, that’s who, but somehow, things were not the same now.

“I hear you, Yamcha. I know I’ve done some crazy shit in the past, but this is different. It really is. I’m not… There are certain things I can’t talk about, alright?”

“Like what, Bulma? What the hell! I can’t fucking believe you don’t trust me anymore!”

“Gods, Yamcha! Do you even realize that not every single goddamn thing in this world revolves around you? What? Are you expecting me to tell you every fucking detail about my relationship with Vegeta? Be honest, would you even want to know?”

He stared at her.

He didn’t, of course.

Her relationship with the Saiyan warrior had always been a mystery to him. Sure, he’d seen her flirt with him a bit from the start, even before their break-up. There was also that GR explosion, which had been the first time he’d witnessed the true concern the woman held towards the Prince. When he’d left Capsule Corp. in order to move into his tiny bachelor’s apartment, the little monster of jealousy had planted some suspicious ideas on his mind. He’d visited Capsule Corporation on two occasions, invited by the Briefs family to some business parties, and he vividly recalled the night he’d first seen those two together…

He’d gone outside in search of some fresh air, his head heavy thanks to the sweet alcohol he’d been drinking all night at the open bar, when he’d suddenly felt Bulma’s unmistakable ki change erratically. He’d focused his inebriated mind, trying to find out where the energy source was coming from, and he discovered she was at one of the gardens on the other side of the building. He’d curiously flown there, and then he saw them. The Saiyan was backing the heiress against one of the ancient trees, his hand between her thighs. His first impression was that he must have been trying to rape her, but then he realized that she was willingly giving herself to him. Both her hands were buried into Vegeta’s wild hair, and she was passionately kissing him. She was wearing a really sexy red party dress, with an indecently high slit on one of the sides, and she was wrapping one of her legs on the naked waist of the alien warrior, who seemed to be kissing her back with equal fervor. He was half naked, as usual, wearing only his training shorts and a pair of sneakers, and he realized he’d probably come to her directly from the GR and she didn’t even care. Yamcha knew how mad she used to get at him whenever he’d try to even kiss her after he’d been training, always complaining about her hair, her makeup or about how stinky he was when he was sweaty. And yet there she was, completely dolled up for her party, and about to fuck that filthy man…

Yamcha closed his eyes, trying to erase the memory from his mind. Even though they’d already broken up at the time, seeing her with another male had hurt him deeply, and Vegeta wasn’t just a simple man, he was the bastard that had indirectly killed him in battle just a few years prior to that moment. And then, just as he was coming to terms with the fact that those two were fucking each other, she called and invited him into her home at the promise of some big announcement. It had been a big announcement, that’s for sure. She was pregnant with that asshole’s child, and even though he’d noticed a hint of loneliness and insecurity on her face, he could also see that she was happy and, dare he say it, proud about it. The scarred faced man had been livid when she’d told him that Vegeta didn’t even know about the pregnancy and that he wasn’t even on Earth anymore, and Bulma’d even said that it was alright, because she knew that he’d be coming back at some point in time to fight those androids the boy from the future had warned them about.    

He’d felt a mixture of anger and pity towards her at the time, and he’d even stupidly offered to marry her and raise the child as his. She’d rejected him, of course, and he’d left that home seriously believing that the blue haired beauty would end up a single mother.

And he had been right of course. As soon as the Cell Games were over, the Saiyan had abandoned her once more, and now the crazy woman was going to go only the Gods knew where in order to try to find the monster.

“Bulma, I… I’ve never asked much about your relationship with… with _him_ ”, he stopped, feeling pathetic for sometimes not being able to even say the Prince’s name. “But, I just… I get the feeling that what you two had wasn’t probably something serious… At least, not to him…”

“What the fuck, Yamcha?! How can you…?”

“Let me finish, goddamn it!!” he interrupted her before she could retaliate. “Look… I know how hard it is to let go sometimes and… and sometimes you don’t even like that person, you like the idea of that person... so…”

“How dare you, you asshole??!! How dare you fucking imply that you know shit about my relationship with _my_ man!”

He cringed at the expression.

“Your man? He’s not even here anymore!!!”

“You heard me, you idiot! He’s _my_ man! I love him!”

Yamcha gawked at Bulma, open mouthed. _Love?_ She couldn’t be serious… And yet he knew that his ex had never trivialized with the four-letter word, well, except when they were both silly teenagers, of course. But as they’d both reached adulthood, he’d slowly come to realize that Bulma was a free spirit, and she didn’t like the idea of getting too attached to someone else. Every now and then, usually in the heat of passion as they were having sex, she’d tell him she loved him, but it had never been a word she’d carelessly thrown around.

“What… what did you say?” he whispered.

“You heard me, you fool!” she replied, and as he looked at her, he realized that she was fuming and her eyes were full of angry tears.

“You… you love him, Bulma?”

“Gods, Yamcha! Just what the hell do you think this is all about?” she said, her voice full of frustration.

“I… I don’t know… I thought you were just being stubborn… Maybe that you… that you were doing this for Trunks’ sake, you know… Bulma, if this is about your child having a father I could still…”

“Don’t!” she cut him off firmly. “Don’t even go there, Yamcha. I’m not going through this again with you… I…” she sighed, trying to calm down and knowing, deep down, that Yamcha’s heart was in the right place. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Yamcha, but this is not just about trying to find a father for my baby… Yes, of course I want him to have his father in his life; we all saw what not having Vegeta around did to Mirai Trunks…”

“And yet he survived, Bulma. And he grew up into a much better man than Vegeta will ever be…” he replied, still trying to convince her to forget this madness.

That did it. Those were the words that made Bulma lose control and finally shed those unruly tears…

“How can you even say something like that, Yamcha?” she furiously whispered, feeling incredibly sad now. “How do you even know what kind of man Vegeta is, or the kind of person he could become in the future?”

He remained silent.

He had no answer to that question.

“Haven’t you ever thought that perhaps he’s never had the opportunity to be something else? That maybe life has never actually given him a fucking chance?”

Her voice was sad, but firm and he secretly admired that fact that, despite how much she was probably suffering at the moment, she remained strong.

“Do you even realize that he hadn’t known what true friendship was until he found us? Come on, Yamcha! He protected our friends on Namek when they fought Frieza! And he was on our side during the battle against the androids and Cell!” she paused, stubbornly wiping away her tears with her pale hands.

“Yes, he was still an asshole sometimes, but… but this life is new to him, Yamcha… I just know… I know there’s a different side of him, and I know not because of some stupid delusions of love, but because I’ve seen it! I’ve actually seen him! Just _him_ … No Prince of the Saiyans bullshit, Yamcha, just him!”

“Bulma…” he whispered shyly.

“Stop it, Yamcha! Stop trying to make me go against my fucking heart! You can sit here and talk shit about the man I fucking love all day long, but I’m still leaving! You hear me, you idiot? So be my friend and support me in this or just get the hell out! You have no idea what I’m going through right now. I don’t need this crap!”

The man looked at her, examining her with new eyes. And it hit him that it was very possible that the heiress knew what she was doing on some level, given that her instincts about people had always been right, him being living proof of it.

He had no idea what kind of relationship Bulma had with Vegeta, but right then and there, sitting on that chair by her side, he finally had to admit defeat. The blue haired beauty wasn’t his woman anymore, and the insanely strong purple haired baby boy playing with his grandparents in the kitchen wasn’t his son. They both belonged to someone else: a man that probably had no idea how fucking lucky he was, or maybe he knew, and he hadn’t quite known what to do with his newfound luck when it hit him in the face.

He looked at her beautiful face, the glowing creamy skin and those huge blue eyes that he used to get lost into while he was making love to her, it felt like centuries ago now… Motherhood had certainly changed her, but it had been for the better. The silly little girl was still in there somewhere, but a more mature woman, a real woman, had also developed. He thought about Vegeta, wherever the fuck he was right now and he knew that if she found him, she’d bring him back, for no man could resist a woman like Bulma Briefs.

He held her hands into his and he squeezed them gently, not even fully believing himself what he was about to do…

“Bulma, I can’t let you do this...”

“I’m sorry, Yamcha, but you don’t have the right to…”

“Not without me”, he cut her.

Silence.

More silence.

Until Bulma finally whispered…

“Y-Yamcha… No, babe… You can’t… I’m not sure this is a good…”

“It wasn’t a question, Bulma. If you want to leave the planet, then you’ll take me with you as well,” he said with firm conviction in his voice.

“This isn’t your battle to fight Yamcha…” she replied, deeply moved by what her ex-lover was trying to do for her.

“Bulma”, he said, strongly gripping her shoulders now. “You are my friend… You are my _best friend_ , so all your battles are mine too, you hear me?”

“But…”

“I’m afraid you have no choice in the matter”

The heiress stared at him, her eyes full of unshed tears once again, and she smiled. A big smile, just for him, that brought him memories once again, making his heart ache…

“Alright,” she nodded.

“Alright,” he bravely replied.

She gave him a hug and he held her back, and for a long time the two of them just stood there, basking in each other’s warmth, and for the first time, Yamcha felt like this instant had finally brought him some kind of closure. Yes, Bulma Briefs belonged to another man, and he was going to be crazy enough to try to help the woman bring him back to her. But she was also the person he’d loved the most in his entire miserable life, and if there was a chance for her to be happy and to live a fulfilled life with the father of her child, he wanted to somehow contribute to that happiness as much as he could.

The blue haired woman gave him one last squeeze and she let go of him. She wiped away her tears with her hands, she nodded her head resolutely and she said…

“Get ready. We’ll leave in a week”.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well... It looks like a new passenger has joined the Briefs ship...
> 
> Our next chapter will already take place in space! Are you ready?


	11. A New Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma, Krillin and Yamcha are finally in space, on their way to their first destination...

Bulma stood silently in front of one of the windows of the space ship, wrapped in a thermal blanket. It never really ceased to amaze her how beautiful space was; she’d dreamt with space travel ever since she was a little girl and, even though she’d already witnessed some of the monsters that inhabited it, she couldn’t help but admire the beauty of her view.

They’d already traveled for nine days, and they were getting closer and closer to their destination: the planet where Vegeta’s ship seemed to be stationed at the moment.

From the time she’d decided to make this trip, she’d been regularly checking on the ship’s tracking system her father had installed, systematically, in all Capsule Corp. vehicles. The signal wasn’t very good and it continually appeared and disappeared from their radar. However, it was the best option they had and, at least, they knew the ship had been positioned on the same location for about six days now. Of course, there was always the possibility that the Prince had simply abandoned the vehicle and that he’d left the planet employing some other means of transportation, like one of the pods the warrior used when he first came to Earth, but the heiress hoped that, even if her man wasn’t there, she’d at least get some information on his whereabouts and perhaps even find out what exactly he’d been up to. She knew Dende had told her he’d “shed some blood”, but as far as she knew, it hadn’t been innocent blood, so that gave her hope that Vegeta’s mind and spirit wouldn’t be completely gone.

Bulma heard a soft noise and she turned around, only to be greeted by Krillin walking towards the little kitchenette.

“Want some coffee?” he softly asked her.

“Sure. Thanks, Krillin.”

“No problem…” the bald man replied.

The blue haired woman walked towards their tiny living area and she sat down on one of the small couches. They both tried to make as little noise as possible, since all three passengers had been taking turns to sleep and it was Yamcha’s chance to rest now. It had been a really good idea on Bulma’s part, that way two of them would always be completely alert in case something bad took place. And as usual, something bad had happened indeed: the ship had suddenly found itself in the middle of an electromagnetic field and some of the electrical power systems had been slightly damaged. Luckily, it hadn’t been anything major, but the scientist had decided to disconnect the main energy systems of the ship just in case. As a result, they’d spent the last couple of days in the dark, relying only in the dim emergency lights of the vehicle, and without heating or hot water. She’d also forbidden the guys from using the small gravity room she had installed on the second floor.

Bulma shivered slightly and she wrapped the blanket around herself a bit tighter. She kept telling herself that the situation was uncomfortable, but not terrible. After all, the woman had certainly found herself under worse circumstances. A _lot_ worse. And per her calculations, they only had about thirty-six to forty-eight hours until they reached their destination.

“Here” a kind voice said, placing the steaming cup of coffee right in front of her.

“Thank you”, she replied with gratitude. A warm drink was just what she needed right now…

They both drank in silence for a minute or two, as they enjoyed the last few days of peace and quiet they’d probably get for a while. After all, who knew what kind of circumstances they’d find when they finally landed. Bulma had been able to get in touch with her father on two occasions, which hadn’t been an easy task, and he had no information whatsoever regarding the planet they were about to visit. For all they knew, it could be a planet with a hostile environment, or even worse, unfriendly inhabitants. The heiress knew her friends were strong, but not as strong as a Saiyan warrior, and as they approached their destination, Bulma found herself getting increasingly nervous about what they’d eventually find when they got there. A part of her was also starting to regret not having brought Gohan along with them, but deep down she knew that she’d made the right choice by not allowing the young boy to join them on the day of their departure from Earth.

Bulma frowned as she recalled her last day on her home planet. They were all in the garden, ready to go, her mother holding Trunks in her arms as Dr. Briefs and his daughter performed a last check up on the navigation system of the ship.

“What the hell is that?!” Yamcha said all of a sudden, as he looked at the sky.

“What?” a startled Bulma replied.

Abruptly, Goku’s son had landed near the ship, closely followed by Piccolo.

“Gohan!! No!!” the Namekian had yelled.

She looked at the boy and she realized something was wrong. He looked angry and impatient, and he spoke frantically.

“Bulma, please! Let me go with you! I can’t believe you didn’t ask me to join you!”

The scientist looked at Piccolo in confusion, and the green man answered the question that was on her mind.

“I’m sorry, Bulma. I told him that you were leaving because I was hoping Gohan would give me a hand with Trunks. My mistake… I should have waited until the ship had taken off…” he said, regret in his rough voice.

The woman nodded in understanding and she turned towards her best friend’s son once again.

“I see…” she said as she firmly put both arms on Gohan’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, young man, but I’m afraid you can’t come with us…”

“But Bulma… You’ll need my help! It’s… It’s my responsibility to…”

“No, it’s not, Gohan”, she cut him off. Her heart tightening at the sight of the young boy, who was looking more like his father than ever, and the sense of duty and obligation present in his too young eyes… No, this wasn’t right.

“Gohan, listen to me…” she continued, her maternal instincts kicking in with a vengeance. “Your place is here, on Earth. You mother needs you, now more than ever, and you are right, you are the strongest warrior we have and you’ll be more useful staying on the planet”.

“B-But… Bulma I… I can help…” the boy said frustratingly.

Bulma knelt in front of him and she whispered in his ear, “I need you to take care of Trunks while I’m gone, Gohan. I’m sure he’s going to need you more than I would. I’ll be fine, I promise. I’m gonna find Vegeta, and then he’ll protect me when we’re finally together. You know he’s one of us now, don’t you?”

The young boy nodded, confused.

“Yeah, I guess…” he said sadly, staring at the ground now.

“Are you really going to bring him back, Bulma?” he whispered back.

“Of course!” she replied, winking playfully at him. “What’s the matter, boy? You think I can’t do it?” she asked mockingly.

The boy laughed.

“I’m sure you will” he replied. And he wasn’t lying, for he’d heard some of his dad’s stories about his adventures with the young woman and he knew she was a force of nature.

“Alright then”, she said resolutely, standing up in front of him once again. “I leave my baby in your hands, OK?”

He nodded.

“And take care of your mom, you hear me?”

She gave him a hug and a strange sense of déjà vu enveloped her, realizing there was something in the boy’s scent that smelled just like Goku when he was a kid and he used to sneak in to innocently share the bed with her…

Bulma took another sip of her coffee, suddenly finding it hard to swallow the hot beverage as she recalled her last moments on Earth, holding her child as she said her final goodbyes. Trunks had seemed in good spirits as she entered the ship, but she really had no idea how he was doing right now, having only been able to check on him on two occasions, and sometimes she felt like she was going insane from how much she was missing her baby.

“Are you OK?” Krillin asked, concern present in his voice.

“Uh? Um, sure, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”

He shrugged.

“No reason, you just seemed a bit lost in thought, that’s all… Are you worried?”

“A little…” she admitted in a low voice.

The warrior gawked at her, shocked that she had actually confessed being nervous about what they were attempting to do. These past few days he’d really gotten to see a new Bulma, perhaps a more mature one. He guessed it probably had something to do with motherhood and even with Vegeta. He found it interesting that, even though their mission was very clear, she never actually talked about the Saiyan Prince, and he didn’t dare to ask since, just like all the rest of the Z Warriors, with the exception perhaps of Goku, he’d never fully understood just what the hell had his friend seen in that man. Although some recent developments in his own personal life had started to challenge his own concepts of good and evil.

As if reading his thoughts, the heiress smiled sadly.

“Tell me the truth, Krillin, do you think I’m crazy?” she asked.

“Uh? Um, no… Not really… I mean, I’m sure you know Vegeta better than any of us. Besides, people can change, right?”

Bulma looked at him for a minute, realizing that her friend seemed to have something else on his mind, and she had a vague idea of who the lucky lady was.

“I think so” she continued. “Are you… Um… Are you hoping that someone else will change in _your_ life, Krillin?” she asked cautiously, with a playful glint in her eyes.

The warrior blushed and he shyly nodded.

 _‘Bingo!’_ She thought.

“Is it a lovely blonde lady?” she smirked.

“Yeah… It’s 18…” he said, avoiding her gaze and smiling like a silly teenage boy.

She smiled.

“Well… I’m happy for you” she said, really meaning it.

“Really?” he asked in shock. “You don’t really think I’m crazy?”

Bulma laughed.

“Do you realize that’s exactly the same question I just asked you myself?”

He smiled too.

“Yeah… I guess we’re both crazy, uh?”

“Or we have a sixth sense when it comes to reading people…” she said hopefully.

Krillin nodded, remaining silent.

“May I ask how things are going?” she finally asked again.

“Uh, you know…” he rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ve, uh, we’ve been on a few dates…”

She smiled, noticing how shy he looked.

“I think it’s going well… I even think…” he paused, unsure of whether he should continue or not.

“Go on… You even think, what?” she encouraged him gently.

“I think she might be the one…”

Bulma’s eyes widened a little.

“Really? Wow… Well, I hope things work out for you two…”

“You really mean that, Bulma?” he asked, still clearly insecure, looking almost embarrassed about the fact that he’d fallen in love with one of the “bad guys”. The heiress knew the feeling all too well…

“I really do. You’re a really nice guy Krillin, you deserve happiness”, she finally replied, kindly squeezing one of his hands.

He looked at the woman and he smiled, putting his other hand on top of hers.

“We’re gonna find him, Bulma. I have a good feeling about this…” he declared with complete honesty in his eyes.

Suddenly both friends heard the sound on someone clearing his throat.

They both turned their heads only to find a sleepy Yamcha witnessing the scene with curious eyes.

“Um… Is everything OK?” he finally asked.

Krillin let go of Bulma’s hand.

“Yeah… Just, catching up, you know…” the scientist replied.

“Alright… Well, I’m not feeling like sleeping anymore, so you can rest now if you want, Bulma.”

As if on cue, the blue haired woman yawned.

“Yeah… I’ll go get some sleep.”

She got up and she walked towards the little hallway where the three small rooms were placed.

“Have fun, you guys…”

Bulma laid in bed and she closed her eyes, trying to get some sleep. Even though she was exhausted, her excitement about her new adventure kept her awake for a few extra minutes… She’d tried not to get her hopes up, but she knew that it was very possible that she’d finally find Vegeta in less than a couple of days, and now that she was getting closer, she had absolutely no idea what she would do if and when she actually found him.

What would she say? What would she do? And more importantly, how would he react? Would he reject her? She knew in her heart that the Prince would never, ever hurt her physically, but she knew that he’d already hurt her emotionally quite a few times in the past. She had absolutely no idea what was going on inside the Saiyan’s mind, but she knew that something was wrong with him. When she closed her eyes, she could still see those dark penetrating eyes, sadly looking at her in the middle of the night. Their last night together…

She shivered, tucking herself with the blankets, she turned on her side and she took a deep breath. Her last thought before deep sleep finally came to her was that everything was going to be alright…

Meanwhile, Yamcha sat down on the pilot’s chair. He was now fully awake, thanks to a cup of coffee and a really cold shower. He looked at the coordinates in the map where Bulma had traced their route and he frowned.

“Hey Krillin” he said softly, trying not to make too much noise. “Come here…”

“What’s up?” the bald man asked, standing next to him.

“Um… When was the last time you received the signal from Vegeta’s ship?”

“I dunno… Bulma was the one really watching it. Why? Is there something wrong?” he asked with a hint of worry in his voice.

“Well, I’m looking at the records and it says that we haven’t received any signal for about eight hours now. Isn’t that a little too much?”

“Um… Not really… I mean, I think at one point we lost it for almost an entire day. It drove poor Bulma crazy… And then we got it again, exactly on the same spot… So, I’m sure it’s OK.”

Yamcha took a deep breath.

“If you say so… Hey, how about another cup of coffee?”

“I’m on it, pal…” Krillin replied, making his way towards the kitchenette.

The scarred faced warrior got up, abandoning the pilot’s chair, and he walked towards the same window Bulma had been standing in front of before. He crossed his arms, deep in thought, hoping that Bulma would eventually find what she was looking for…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Only two days to go until they reach Vegeta's ship.  
> What do you think? Do you think he'll be there?
> 
> In the next chapter, Bulma and her friends will discover the new planet and we'll get some major developments regarding Vegeta...


	12. A New Intergalactic Order

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and her friends discover a new planet, its people and quite a few things about Vegeta's new life...
> 
> Will he be there?

_But we must kill them._

_We must incinerate them._

_Pig after pig._

_Cow after cow._

_Village after village._

_Army after army._

_And they call me an assassin._

_What do you call it, when the assassins accuse the assassin?_

_They lie._

_They lie and we have to be merciful, for those who lie._

_Those nabobs._

_I hate them.  I really hate them."_

[Colonel Kurtz; _“Apocalypse Now”_ ]

 

Yamcha finished getting dressed in his tiny cabin, making sure he would be protected from the harsh weather they were about to face, and he double checked that the belt Bulma have given him was secure underneath his warm clothes.

She really was amazing, wasn’t she? The woman had certainly come prepared for this trip, especially considering it had only taken her about two weeks to prepare for it. Not only had she built a new ship, with the help of his father and a few trustworthy members of Capsule Corporation, but she’d also been extremely foresighted and she’d taken the time to create three belts, one for each of the passengers of the ship, which contained tiny capsules full of food, clean water, medical supplies, a few different types of Capsule Corp. vehicles and clothes suitable for every single kind of weather they might encounter during their new adventure. The capsules were tiny, about half the size of a regular one, and Bulma had commented that they were a new model, entirely her invention, that hadn’t even gone into full production yet because the costs of manufacture were still too high and she didn’t think they would be a profitable product until they found a way to make them more affordable to the general public.

His ex-lover truly was brilliant.

The warrior sighed, shaking his head, knowing where this train of thought would lead him. He had to admit, this trip hadn’t been as easy as he’d thought it would be.

Back in the lab, as he’d held her and basically forced her to allow him to accompany her in this odyssey, he’d truly felt that he’d finally achieved some kind of closure from their past together. But now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. He knew that he’d never attempt to pursue her again, and he really hoped she’d be able to find Vegeta and convince him to give their relationship a shot, but he couldn’t help some of the images that went through his mind when she was near him…

Spending time with her in a closed space hadn’t helped either. Every damn day he was surrounded by her scent, her smile, her soothing words of encouragement, her cooking, that had actually gotten better than it used to be, and of course, her beauty. He’d often catch her standing in front of the main window of the space ship, her tiny shivering body wrapped in that blue blanket, lost in thought, with a slight concerned frown and those pink pouty lips he’d been fortunate enough to kiss so long ago, and he wondered what went on inside that girly but complex mind of hers.

Yamcha shook his head again, telling himself that if that fool didn’t want her back he’d kick his ass.

“Lucky bastard” he mumbled frustratingly as he exited his cabin and he walked towards the main living area, where Krillin and Bulma were already waiting for him.

“There you are!” she said cheerfully, although he could tell she was simply trying to hide her anxieties. She softly patted the couch, asking him to sit down next to her, and he complied.

“Is everything alright?” she asked.

“Uh? Um, yeah…” he replied in confusion.

“I mean the clothes, silly! Do they fit you well? Are they warm enough?”

“Sure!” he honestly replied. “They’re very warm, but light at the same time. You’re really talented, as usual…”

She gave him that Bulma Briefs cocky grin of hers…

“Well, of course! I am a genius, after all!”

He mockingly rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah… Anyway, are we all ready to go? Do you have all the information you needed before we land?”

“I think so…” she replied, her cute face getting serious, meaning that they were about to discuss things of great importance. She held a few documents she’d just printed, no doubt the results of the tests she’d been running ever since they’d reached the planet. The blue haired woman had wisely decided not to land until she was able to find out as much as she could about the planet they were about to visit. As a result, they’d been orbiting it for about two hours, as her computers worked their magic and gathered as much knowledge about it as they could.

“Alright, boys! This is what we know…” she said as she went through her notes. “As you can see, most of the planet is white, and just as I suspected, the white substance is ice, apparently with the same composition as Earth’s water. The air is also constituted of the same elements as the one from our home planet, which means that it’s breathable and it shouldn’t give us any trouble. Mmmm… Let’s see what else… Oh! Here. OK, most of the planet seems to be unpopulated; I’ve only discovered two zones where there seem to be some villages. They appear to be small, and I’ve also detected a few really large hangars near the villages.” She stopped, frowning… “I guess… Maybe they could be some kind of factories? Perhaps? I mean… The weather seems to be pretty harsh in here, so I’m guessing these people don’t make a living from something like agriculture… By the way, can you feel their kis? Are the inhabitants strong?” she asked the two men.

“It’s hard to tell, Bulma”, Krillin said, shaking his head. “I mean… I can feel quite a few kis on the planet, but we’re still too far to know for sure… Also, they could be like us and know how to hide their energy levels… We won’t know for sure until we land”.

She nodded, disappointment written on her face. Landing on that planet without knowing what to expect wasn’t exactly safe, but really, what other choice did they have? Go back home because they were scared? No fucking way. Not without her Saiyan Prince.

“I’m sorry, Bulma…” Krillin said, realizing that the scientist looked somewhat agitated.

“It’s fine, Krillin. It’s not your fault…” she grabbed his hand, squeezing it gently. “I… I wanna thank you guys… Whatever happens down there, you don’t know how much it means to me to have you two here with me…” she smiled, looking at both men.

The warriors looked at each other. Humble, grateful Bulma was certainly something they hadn’t witnessed very often, and they couldn’t help but being surprised.

“You don’t have to thank us” Yamcha replied, putting his hand on her shoulder. “That’s what friends are for… It’s gonna be alright, you’ll see…”

Bulma smiled, swallowing a lump in her throat. No. Bulma Briefs wasn’t going to get emotional. Not today, anyway.

“Well…” she continued after taking a minute to compose herself. “As you already know, we haven’t received any signal from Vegeta’s ship for the last couple of days… This could mean two things…” she stopped, taking a deep breath. “He’s either on the planet and he encapsulated the ship or… Or he’s left the planet with the ship and we can’t receive the signal anymore for whatever reason…”

Bulma suddenly stopped talking, knowing full well there was a third reason: the possibility that Vegeta’s ship had been destroyed and that something bad had happened to him, but she didn’t even want to think about it, so she decided to keep that fear to herself.

“Even if he isn’t in there, Bulma, I’m sure we’ll get some info on him, I mean… He spent at least six days on this planet, right?” Yamcha said cautiously, reading her face like an open book, knowing full well the woman knew something bad could have happened to the Saiyan.

She nodded again.

“Let’s hope the people here are friendly…” she whispered distractedly…

There was silence in the room, until Bulma came back to the present.

“Anyway... These are my plans: we land close to the smallest village, since it would be less risky having to face a smaller amount of people, in case they’re hostile, but far enough that we don’t make a spectacle of ourselves, I mean… This ship can be a bit loud when it lands, and I have to say, I’m not sure how landing on a surface full of ice will work out… If anything bad happens, I have tools and spare parts in one of the capsules in my belt, in case I have to make some emergency repairs…”

Both men nodded in approval.

“It sounds like a plan…” Krillin replied.

“I also think it’s better that we just walk into the village, trying to blend in as much as we can… By the way guys, we will not, under any circumstances, tell anyone where we come from. We don’t want to put our planet and friends at risk, right?”

_‘Or our children’_ she anxiously thought…

“Absolutely” Yamcha said in complete agreement.

“Then, I think we’re ready… Everyone, take your seats and get ready for a rough landing!” Bulma said, her voice full of newfound determination.

They all walked towards their seats, with the scientist sitting at the pilot’s one, they fastened their seat belts and they proceeded to approach the planet, Bulma typing the landing coordinates on the computer system…

 

*********************************************

 

As it turned out, the landing hadn’t been as bumpy as the blue haired genius had expected, and she’d managed to land quite gracefully over the slippery grounds of the planet without damaging the space ship in the slightest.

The three passengers stood up, Bulma’s legs a bit wobbly from the landing, and Yamcha held her arm in order to steady her.

“Are you OK?” he asked with concern in his voice.

“Y-Yeah… I’m fine. Thanks babe!” she replied, trying to hide the nervousness from her voice.

Krillin approached them.

“Alright guys. Let’s do this!” he said resolutely as he opened the gate of the ship. He waited until Yamcha and Bulma were standing next to him, and then the three of them exited the vehicle.

A rush of extremely cold air hit their faces, making the woman flinch, and her ex-boyfriend couldn’t help but feel worried about how difficult it would be for her to handle the harsh environment they were about to deal with. He held her hand, helping her to descend from the ship’s slippery walkway. She grabbed it, gratefully, and she didn’t let go until she reached the ground, taking a deep breath of relief and flashing him a bright smile.

“Thank you, Yamcha.”

The scarred faced warrior nodded, unable to hide the hint of a blush from his face.

“No problem… Boy! It sure is cold in here! I think we should wear those hats you’ve given us, uh? We don’t want our ears to freeze!”

She nodded, putting her cozy wool hat on as both men did the same.

Bulma walked towards the side of the ship and she pushed a button, effectively encapsulating it and safely keeping it inside of one of her zipped pockets.

“So… Do you guys sense any kis? Where’s the village?”

Krillin frowned in concentration.

“This way”, he said pointing to their right. “I’d say it’s not very far, but we probably should fly a little so that we don’t freeze our asses off!”

Yamcha held Bulma in his arms and the three comrades flew towards the nearest village, which they reached about ten minutes later. Just as they were about to enter it, Bulma asked Yamcha to put her down so they’d be able to walk in without drawing too much attention to themselves.

The Earthlings walked, side by side, curiously looking around them and realizing there wasn’t much to see. In the distance, they witnessed the few large hangars Bulma had talked about back before they’d landed, but they really couldn’t see what was inside of them.

As they slowly started to reach the village, they finally saw some people, walking in different directions. They all seemed to belong to the same race, and they looked humanoid, with light blue skin, burgundy hair and large yellow-green eyes. Despite the obvious difference in their appearance, nobody seemed to really pay much attention to them, and they walked past them minding their own business. Bulma couldn’t hide her relief as she realized the inhabitants of this frozen world seemed to be peaceful individuals.

“Well guys, either these people are really good at hiding their power levels, or they’re all even weaker than Bulma…” Krillin finally said.

“Ha! Ha!” Bulma said, laughing sarcastically at his friend’s comment.

Krillin smirked.

“Aww, Bulma! Don’t be like that! This is actually good news, right? That means your friends are the strongest people on the plan…”

Krillin suddenly stopped talking _and_ walking, deeply shocked by the image in front of him. He looked at his friends and he realized they’d both stopped walking too, staring dumbfounded at the new scenario.

They’d finally entered the village, and they stood on what seemed to be the central square of the small town. In the middle, the villagers worked together placing large bundles on what appeared to be something similar to Earth’s primitive carriages. One of the bundles opened a little, allowing them to see what was inside of it.

A hand.

A dirty, bloody hand.

“Oh, Dende…” the scientist whispered in shock.

“Bulma, perhaps you shouldn’t look at this…” Yamcha said, suddenly feeling like the carnage would be too much for the fragile woman to take.

“It’s OK, Yamcha, really…” she replied softly, unable to take her eyes off the image in front of her.

As they tried to absorb all the details of this new situation, attempting to make some sense of it, they didn’t realize that someone was carefully approaching them.

“Excuse me, Miss…” a shy voice said, and Bulma looked in front of her, realizing a little girl was standing right there.

The child cleared her throat timidly and she asked another question.

“Is… Um… Is your hair blue, Miss?”

The woman blinked in confusion, surprised about being asked that question. Of course her hair was blue! Wasn’t that obvious? And then she realized that most of her hair was covered by her wool hat, and she nodded.

“That is correct. My hair is blue” she replied kindly.

The little girl’s eyes suddenly widened and she smiled.

“Wait here!” she yelled as she run towards a group of people that was standing in front of one of the houses in the square. 

“What the hell was all that about?” Krillin asked.

Bulma crossed her arms, squinting as she looked at the group of people the kid was running towards.

“I have no idea…” she said, puzzled, wondering what exactly was going on in this planet…

The three earthlings saw the child reach a small group of women and hold the hand of one of them in particular, an older woman; the girl whispered something in her ear and the old lady looked around her until she finally set her eyes on Bulma. She tilted her head to the left, she asked the child something and, after the kid replied to her, she nodded and she proceeded to walk towards the new visitors.

The child was holding the lady’s hand, slowing down her pace so that the older woman could comfortably follow her, and as both females got closer and closer, the scientist realized a lot of the villagers were now staring at the travelers and whispering to each other.

“I don’t like this…” Yamcha said in a low voice.

“Ssshhh… Yamcha, let’s wait and see what is happening here…” Bulma said, trying to remain calm and to appear confident. She could hear the child saying “I think that’s her, grandma!”

The older lady finally reached her and she stood in front of them, trying to catch her breath for a few seconds. Then, she finally addressed them.

“Bulma? Bulma Briefs?” she asked politely.

“Um… Uh, who are you?” the heiress warily asked, amazed that someone in here knew who she was.

“Oh, excuse me, Miss. Where are my manners?” The lady replied embarrassed. “My name is Khalla and this is my granddaughter, Ellah”, she said pointing at the little girl.

“Nice to meet you, ladies. You are correct, I am Bulma Briefs… May I ask how do you know my name?”

“We’ve been expecting you for the past two days”.

“Expecting us?” Yamcha suddenly questioned.

“Not all of you, young man. We were expecting _her_ ”, she clarified, pointing towards Bulma.

“But, how…? What…?” Bulma asked confused.

“Lord Vegeta. He left something for you, and he made me its custodian until your arrival.”

The blue haired woman’s eyes widened in shock, and she looked as if she was going to faint any minute…

“L-Lord Vegeta?” she whispered.

“Holy shit…” Krillin murmured…

Khalla nodded and she cautiously looked around her, noticing that the entire village was now paying attention to the new visitors.

“Yes, Lord Vegeta. If you don’t mind, it’s better if we discuss things privately. Our people are harmless, I can assure you, but I get the feeling that you’ll want some discretion, am I correct?”

Bulma looked at the boys questioningly. She got the feeling that the lady’s intentions were honest, buy she still wanted the opinion of her companions. Yamcha and Krillin seemed to be scanning their surroundings, searching for any potential threats and finding none. They both looked at Bulma and nodded in approbation.

“Alright, we’ll follow you”, the heiress finally said.

“My house is right there” Khalla said, pointing towards a small white house.

They all walked towards it: the older lady and the child first, followed closely by Bulma, whose back was fiercely protected by Yamcha and Krillin, acting as bodyguards. The blue haired woman smiled, feeling extremely grateful again for having her friends by her side. They finally reached the tiny home and Ellah opened the door for her grandmother. They all entered and they took the seat their host was offering in what seemed to be a small sofa.

“Would you like a warm drink?” the woman politely asked.

All three of them shook their heads.

“No, thanks. We’re fine”, Bulma replied. Deep down, there was nothing more she wanted right now than a really hot drink, but she still didn’t fully trust the people on this planet, and she could tell her male friends were having the same exact thoughts.

“Very well then… I’ll prepare one for myself, if you don’t mind…” she said, walking slowly towards a little kitchen that was placed in one of the corners of the house. As the older woman prepared her drink, little Ellah stared at Bulma with fascination.

“Can I see your hair, Miss Bulma?” she finally whispered, afraid that her grandma would hear her.

Bulma chuckled, removing her hat and revealing her cascade of blue hair, which had gotten longer after the Cell Games and was now a bit past her shoulders. The little girl’s eyes opened wide, fascinated by the woman’s beauty.

“Can I… Um… Can I touch it?” she said in a really low voice full of curiosity.

“Of course, kiddo…” the earthling said, smiling.

The child carefully run her fingers through the turquoise tresses.

“It’s so soft…” she whispered absentmindedly…

“Ellah!” the older woman reproved. “Please, stop bothering our guests. Go to your room, child…”

“Aww, granny! Do I really have to?” the girl asked, clearly not wanting to leave.

“Yes, you must let the grown-ups discuss our business, understood? Go on! Go to your room!”

“Aaaalright…”

Ellah kissed Khalla on her cheek, and she murmured in her ear…

“She’s so pretty… Isn’t she granny?”

The woman smiled quietly and nodded, fully agreeing with the child. They all waited until Ellah left the room, closing the door behind her in order to give them some privacy, and then Khalla turned towards Bulma.

“She’s right. You are a stunning young woman. I can see how Lord Vegeta would wish to have a friend like you”.

The scientist blushed.

“Thank you, you are very kind. So… I assume Lord Vegeta is not on the planet anymore?” Bulma asked, her mind full of emotions. There was disappointment at the Prince not being there, and then there was that word, _‘lord’_ , Vegeta’s new title made her internally cringe for some reason…

Khalla shook her head.

“I’m afraid not. He abandoned the planet two days ago.” There was a pause, and the old woman continued, “I’m assuming you were expecting to find him?”

Bulma nodded and she sighed tiredly, suddenly wanting nothing more than being at home, with her baby in her arms, watching some TV wrapped in a warm blanket…

“Then you must be disappointed. I am truly sorry, my child…”

“You said Lord Vegeta left something for Bulma” Krillin finally said, joining the conversation. “Could you please tell us what it was?”

“Ah, yes… I had almost forgotten… You must forgive me… I must be getting old…” the old lady said, almost talking to herself. She stood up and she walked into another room next door. As they waited, Yamcha couldn’t help himself…

“Lord Vegeta? What the fuck, Bulma?” he whispered angrily, fearing that their worst nightmare, the one that depicted Vegeta trying to achieve some form of world domination, had actually come true.

“Quiet, Yamcha!” Bulma whispered back. “We don’t know what Vegeta has really been doing, so just be respectful…”

Meanwhile, their host had silently come back into the living room and she stood in front of Bulma.

“There you go, young lady…” Khalla said, holding a tiny object in her hand, offering it to her.

Bulma grabbed the object in her now trembling hands and she examined it.

It was a capsule.

And not just any capsule.

It was Vegeta’s ship.

“Oh, no…” Bulma mumbled, suddenly feeling tears gather in her blue eyes…

Yamcha was fuming at the sight of his best friend getting hurt. _‘That fucking asshole’_ …

Krillin observed the scene, trying to remain calm and objective.

“Do you know why Lord Vegeta left his ship in here? Was it by choice, or had the vehicle been damaged?” the bald man questioned.

“Well, I know he left in one of the pods Frieza’s soldiers used to travel with…” the woman said. “As far as whether the ship works or not, I am afraid I’m not an expert about such matters. Our planet’s technology isn’t too advanced…”

Bulma remained quiet for a few moments, trying to gather her thoughts, and then she realized that there was something that didn’t make sense. How…?

“How did Lord Vegeta know we were coming in here? We didn’t mention our intention to visit him the last time we saw him”, she asked.

Khalla shook her head in confusion.

“I… I am afraid he didn’t share that information with me… I…”

“Someone else must have told him, Bulma” Krillin said.

“But who? Was Lord Vegeta talking to someone before he left?”

The old woman shook her head.

“Not as far as I know… I did see him walk inside the ship for a while… And then, we felt something, like… Like… Like an explosion of energy or something like that… It emanated from the ship, and then he exited the vehicle and he… He pushed a button and the ship turned into that tiny thing and, that’s all I know Miss Bulma…”

“Maybe he was talking to someone inside the ship?” Krillin asked again.

“But… Who could he…?” Bulma asked, as if trying to solve an equation. Suddenly, she stood up.

“My dad! Guys! Maybe he called my dad!”

Yamcha shook his head.

“That wouldn’t make any sense, Bulma. He left our planet, why would he call back home?”

“There’s only one way to find out. I haven’t talked to my dad for a while, perhaps we should try to get in touch with him…”

She turned towards the old woman.

“Khalla, is there any place big enough to open this capsule? It should be large enough to fit a space ship.”

Khalla stood up, and she pointed towards one of the closed doors in the room.

“That’s our backyard. It’s empty and it’s quite large, since our house is the last one in the village… You could open it in there…”

Bulma smiled with gratitude.

“Thank you, Khalla. Do you mind if we go in there right now?” she asked hopefully.

“Not at all, child… Go ahead…”

The three travelers walked towards the door, opening it and revealing a backyard covered in ice. Bulma whimpered, internally asking herself how could these people live in these conditions full time. She didn’t think she’d ever be able to get used to this horribly cold weather… She walked a few steps and she pressed the capsule’s button, throwing it at a safe distance…

There it was.

Vegeta’s space ship.

Bulma walked towards it, examining the vehicle with scientific eyes and realizing that it didn’t seem to be damaged at all, at least, not physically. She walked through the walkway and she entered the ship, cautiously looking around her in case there was any internal damage.

There wasn’t any.

Not only that, but the place actually smelled of Vegeta. That masculine, musky scent that was only his, and for a moment, Bulma felt a sharp pain in her stomach.

Gods, how she missed him!

She swallowed her tears and she walked towards the central computer system, trying to switch it on.

Nothing.

She tried again.

And again.

Nothing, it didn’t work.

Bulma sighed in frustration and she lifted her jumper, searching through her tiny belt, looking for the capsule that contained her repair tools.

“There you are…” she whispered as she grabbed the tiny object, pressing the button and throwing it next to her. A heavy red toolbox appeared, and the scientist knelt down next to it, looking for a medium-sized screwdriver. When she found it, she walked towards the central console, she knelt down on the floor again and she proceeded to open the small door that held the central circuits of the vehicle.

“Fuck!” she yelled as she saw what the problem was.

All the circuits were burnt.

“Unbelievable…” she angrily murmured.

She’d been there before, and she knew this kind of thing usually happened when Vegeta had either been overtraining or so angry that he couldn’t properly control his damn energy…

As Bulma looked around her, she realized that it was farfetched to assume that her man had been doing some serious hardcore training in there, given that the room seemed to be in perfect physical condition, so she could only imagine that the Saiyan had been pissed off about something and he’d exploded in rage. But, how? What could have possibly enraged him that much in order to destroy the best space ship he was probably going to own?

The heiress tiredly wiped her forehead as she stood up, hands on her waist, deep in thought, and she realized that the only thing she could do right now was talk to her dad and see if her theory was correct. She’d promised to call him as soon as they reached their destination anyway, so it was still all part of the plan. She walked outside the ship, where her friends and Khalla anxiously awaited her.

“Did you discover anything?” Krillin curiously asked.

She shook her head as she carefully walked through the walkway.

“No guys, sorry. All I know is that the circuits are burnt, and he was probably the one who did it.”

As she reached the ground, she encapsulated the ship again, she opened the zipped pocket that contained the vehicle they’d used to get to the frozen planet and she opened it instead, saving Vegeta’s ship in the same place.

“I’m going to try to call my dad, it’s the only thing I can think of right now… It might take a while, I’m not sure how hard it will be to communicate with our planet from here.”

Bulma walked back inside the ship, she strode towards the console and she typed the secret communication codes of her father’s lab. She knew it would take at least a few minutes for the satellite to catch anything, assuming they’d even be able to reach the Earth from their current position. While she waited, she decided to do something productive with her time: she wanted some answers.

“Yamcha?!” she yelled from inside the ship.

“Um, yeah?!” he yelled back.

“Would you mind asking Khalla to come in here and help her to get inside, please?! I’d like to talk to her!”

“Uh, sure…” The man questioningly looked towards the old woman, she nodded, accepting the invitation and she stretched her arm, seeking his help.

Yamcha looked at the lady, he looked at the slippery walkway and back to her. No, this wasn’t going to work out.

“May I?” He said stretching both arms in her direction. “It will be a lot easier if I just carry you in there myself.”

“Of course, young man…” the woman shyly replied.

The human carefully carried Khalla inside the ship, delicately leaving her on the ground, making sure that she was alright and she could keep her balance before he completely let go of her. Then he turned towards Bulma.

“Is there anything else you need, B.?” he asked.

She didn’t even look at him, too focused on the numbers on the screen placed in front of her.

“No thanks, that’s all… Could you leave us alone, please? I’d like to talk to her in private if that’s OK…”

“Uh, sure. No problem… We’ll be waiting for you outside. Just yell if you need anything.”

Bulma turned towards the entrance door, where Khalla was patiently waiting for her.

“Please, come in Khalla. I’d like to ask you a few questions… If that’s alright with you, of course”, she said politely.

The older woman slowly walked towards the scientist, looking around her in bewilderment, and then back at the beautiful woman sitting on the pilot’s seat. She realized her attributes were more than just physical, and she got the impression that it wouldn’t have been hard for the young Prince to fall in love with this exceptional young woman.

“Please, take a seat” she said, gesturing with a welcoming hand towards the seat to her right.

Khalla sat down, exhaling softly with exhaustion. She was getting too old for this…

Bulma crossed her arms and closed her eyes, mentally preparing herself for what was to come. She opened her blue eyes and, without daring to look at the other woman yet, she softly asked.

“Did he do it?”

Silence.

“I… I beg your pardon, Miss?”

Bulma sighed again, afraid of the woman’s future answers…

“The bodies your people were carrying, I’m assuming to get rid of them. Did Vegeta kill those men?” she asked again, now looking into the woman’s eyes.

“I see…” Khalla finally replied, realizing that Bulma needed to know exactly what the Saiyan warrior had been up to.

“Well, he killed a few of them, but most of them died by the hands of his men, actually…”

“His men?”

“Yes.”

“How many?”

“Um, it’s hard to tell. We were all advised to get into our homes so we wouldn’t get hurt so…”

“What?” she asked in confusion. “Who asked you to do that?”

“Lord Vegeta.”

“Are you telling me he didn’t kill any of the villagers?”

“Of course not, Miss Bulma!” Khalla replied, almost offended. “He only killed Frieza’s men!”

“All of those people were Frieza’s men? What…? What were they doing on the planet?”

“Now I can see that you didn’t know anything about our planet, young woman… Our planet was one of Frieza’s centers of manufacturing”.

“Manufacturing?” Bulma asked, confused.

“Yes… The soldiers brought some raw materials and we built weapons for them, well, only spare parts, since Frieza didn’t allow us to own any weapons. They were manufactured inside the factories located at the outskirts of our villages. Then, every few weeks, Frieza’s men would take them away and his own soldiers would assemble the parts in an undisclosed location.”

Bulma remained silent; she blinked slowly, trying to put all the pieces together…

“So… Your people worked for Frieza?”

The old woman chuckled sadly.

“We were given some food in exchange for our services. Would you call that working?”

Bulma cringed.

No.

She would call that slavery.

She was standing on a slave planet.

_‘Holy shit’_ she thought, now feeling deeply overwhelmed.

“But Frieza died years ago, right? Were you still working for him?”

“For his father, King Cold. We heard rumors that the father had also died, but we couldn’t tell the difference, to be honest.”

“Cold died.” Bulma firmly said. “I saw him die with my own eyes; a great warrior ended his life”.

_‘My son’_ , she thought proudly.

“I see…” Khalla said, feeling there were certain things the woman was choosing to keep to herself.

“Wait a minute, what do you mean you couldn’t tell the difference after his death?”

“Well, our people aren’t physically strong, and we own neither weapons nor the means to create them. Frieza’s men took control, and things went from bad to worse ever since his death, to be honest…”

“In what sense?”

“When Frieza was alive there was some order, it was horrifying, but he somehow kept everyone in check, and we got food supplies regularly. Now… It’s all full of chaos… A lot of our people have died of starvation.”

“Oh Khalla… I’m so sorry…” she said, holding her hand, feeling her eyes burn with unshed tears.

The woman gawked at Bulma, shocked.

Compassion.

The young woman’s eyes were full of pity and compassion.

That was something she’d never seen in her very long life, a stranger feeling empathy towards her weak race.

“It’s alright Miss…” she said patting her hand comfortingly. “Things will get better now that those monsters are dead, I’m sure…”

“So… Now…” Bulma couldn’t even ask the question, too scared to know the answer. If her worst fears were true, she knew she’d never be able to look at Vegeta in the eye again.

“Are you…? Are you now Lord Vegeta’s slaves?”

“Oh, no! No, my child! Now we are free!” Khalla replied in dismay.

Bulma burst into tears. Hot tears of pure relief.

He’d freed them.

Vegeta had freed a slave planet and he hadn’t abused his power.

“Oh, Dende… I knew it…” she whispered… “I knew he was a good man… I just knew it…”

Khalla nodded, deeply moved by Bulma’s joy about the fact that Vegeta had showed mercy to her people.

“Out of all the warriors that ever visited our world, he was always different.”

Bulma wiped her tears, although some of them kept falling freely, and she looked at the woman in shock.

“You… You’d seen him before?”

“Of course, Miss Bulma. He was one of Frieza’s men; he started visiting the planet at a very young age… Back then, there were other two Saiyans with him…”

Bulma nodded.

“Nappa and Raditz”.

“Yes… I believe those were their names…” Khalla continued, nostalgia and pain in her voice. “But he was always different. He was ruthless, but he was fair. He was occasionally ordered to kill some of our people back then but… But he was quick; he never made them suffer… Some of Frieza’s men, they… They took pleasure in torturing and abusing weaker races… That’s why I was so shocked when I saw him this last time…”

“What… What do you mean?” Bulma asked fearfully.

“Well, he… He didn’t hurt any of us and I heard him forbid his men from touching our people but… Frieza’s men… He destroyed them… I had never seen him fight that way. He… He looked different… It was the first time I actually saw him trying to inflict pain…”

“How did he look, Khalla?” Bulma asked in a whisper. “Did he at least look healthy?”

“I guess… He certainly had the strength to fight… Although…”

“What?”

“His eyes… They looked tired… It’s like he was…”

“Gone?” she finished the sentence for her.

Khalla nodded, realizing the girl probably already knew the warrior was troubled. Was she the reason for his pain? Had she come looking for him to try to heal his wounds?

“He didn’t look like himself. But I can assure you he didn’t kill any innocent people. Bulma, may I ask what your relationship with…?”

Suddenly the screen beeped, making both women turn towards it.

“It worked!” Bulma yelled happily. “It’s my dad, Khalla! Let me talk to him…”

“Of course, Miss Bulma, do what you must…”

The older woman started to get up, and Bulma quickly jumped to help her, offering her arm to her.

“Yamcha!” she yelled.

“Yeah?!”

“Can you please come in here?”

The man was up there in a second.

“What’s up?”

“Can you please help Khalla get back to the house? The connection worked today and I want to talk to my dad in private…”

“Sure thing”, Yamcha said as he carried the woman in his arms again, leaving Bulma alone inside the ship. She went back to the pilot’s seat, wiping her face once more, trying not to look too disheveled in front of her father.

She pressed the “OK” button and, instantly, a blurry image of Dr. Briefs showed up on screen.

“Bulma? Bulma! Oh, Gods! Bulma! It that really you?!”

Bulma looked at her father in shock. Her usually careless father was concerned, _really_ concerned…

“Of course it’s me, dad! Is… Is everything OK?”

“Is he with you, Bulma? Did you see him?” he nervously asked.

“Who?”

“Vegeta! He called, Bulma! Is he with you? Where are you?!”

This couldn’t be her father. He was frantic, clearly disturbed by something, and he looked as if he hadn’t slept for a week.

“Dad, please, you have to calm down…” she said soothingly, fearing that the poor man would end up having a heart attack.

Her father sat down on his lab chair, running his hands through his hair, trying to force himself to cool down.

“We reached the planet a few hours ago, dad, and we’re all fine. It’s really cold, but the inhabitants are friendly people, and they’re not very strong so they’re not dangerous to us.”

“Vegeta?” Dr. Briefs asked.

Bulma sadly shook her head.

“Nothing… He’s not here dad… He… He left me his ship. It doesn’t work though…”

“Did he burn the circuits?” the doctor asked knowingly.

“How… How do you know?”

“I figured…” he replied, sighing, relieved that his daughter at least was alright.

“He called us, Bulma…”

“He did? What did he say? Did something happen to him?”

“He… He didn’t say much at first… He just… I think he just wanted to talk to you, or at least find out how you and Trunks were doing… He asked for you…”

“Oh, Gods…” she whispered.

He’d tried to reach her, to talk to her… Did this mean that he cared? Or did it simply mean that he needed something from her? No. That didn’t make any sense, since someone in his position could literally have anything he wanted right now.

Anything.

And yet, he’d freed those poor people…

“Daddy…” she whispered, her lower lip trembling.

“Bulma” the doctor calmly said, now fully composed after his initial outburst of worry. “Do you have the means to repair Vegeta’s ship?”

She nodded.

“I think so… It seems to be in perfect condition physically, I’d probably just have to replace some of the wiring…”

“Then you must do it, Bulma.”

“Why? What do you mean? Dad… What…?”

“I told him…” he whispered, putting his elbows on the table and holding his head in his hands in frustration. “I may… I may have made a mistake… I don’t know… I was just trying to help…”

“What…?”

“I told him about you and your trip, how you had decided to go search for him because you wanted him back and he…”

“He what, Dad?” Bulma whispered with a shaky voice.

“He got mad, Bulma! Really mad! He asked me why… Why hadn’t I stopped you… I… I didn’t know what to say…”

“B-But, what does that have to do with me having to repair the ship?”

“Well, he… He seemed really, really mad at first… You know what he looks like when he’s barely trying to control himself… He looked so furious, Bulma… But then… He calmed down and he… He asked me…”

“W-What, daddy? Please…”

“He asked how to record a message for you.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... This has probably been the hardest chapter to write so far (and the longest!).
> 
> Please don't hate me! I promise a lot of things will happen in our next chapter!


	13. A Saiyan's Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma listens to Vegeta's message...

_I watched a small snail, crawling_

_on the edge of a straight razor._

_That's my dream.  It's my nightmare._

_Crawling, slithering,_

_along the edge of a straight razor,_

_and surviving._

[Colonel Kurtz; “ _Apocalypse Now”_ ]

 

 

Bulma wiped her forehead as she tiredly sat on the floor.

She was exhausted.

She’d been working nonstop on Vegeta’s ship for three days now, trying to repair the circuit system as fast as she could. The fact that her Prince had left a message for her in the memory system of the vehicle was enough to keep her motivated, but truth be told, the whole experience was taking a toll on her.

Hard work didn’t bother her, but the harsh conditions surrounding them didn’t help. The weather was unbearably cold, and the days on this frozen planet were short, which made the nights excruciatingly long; and lonely, of course.

Being inside the warrior’s ship all day made her realize how much she really missed him. This was the ship she’d first built for him, the one where he’d trained in order to prepare himself for the battle with the androids, and the one where she’d slowly come to realize she’d fallen in love with her man.

She sighed, allowing herself a few moments of nostalgia, lost in the memories of her feelings for him. The heiress didn’t fully understand why or how she’d end up falling in love with Vegeta; sure, things between her and Yamcha had been strained for a while, especially considering the fact that they’d been trying for a baby for over a year with no success. But out of all the eligible men on Earth, why the Saiyan Prince?

She knew why.

He was different, just like her. They were both incredibly stubborn people, born into wealthy and powerful families. Obviously, their lives had been very different, while hers had been filled with harmless adventure, his had been full of only Dende knew what… One thing was certain, he’d suffered a lot, and the fact that he’d freed those slaves instead of just taking them for himself was proof, at least to her, that he’d actually known what being owned by someone else meant.

She shook her head.

She still couldn’t believe she’d been afraid of the possibility of Vegeta being evil. Deep down, she knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to his old self. Not after all the things they’d been through on her planet. The blue haired woman recalled her conversation with Dende, where the young God had basically warned her about the possibility of Vegeta losing his mind one way or the other. Khalla’s words had also brought her a reason to be concerned: she said the Prince had looked lost.

Bulma slowly stood up, wiping off her jumper. She believed that her man getting rid of Frieza’s scummy monsters was good, but she also knew that they were all still in a lot of danger. After all, what was the warrior going to do once he got rid of those guys? She knew Vegeta was someone that always needed a goal in life, something to keep him going, motivated. First, it had been defeating Frieza, then the androids, then Goku. What a mess the whole thing had turned out to be…

She felt sorry for him, she really did. The scientist believed that his place should be on Earth, with Trunks and her, and she hoped she’d eventually be able to make him understand that or, at the very least, to make him give the possibility of a life in peace, without violence or revenge, a real chance.

“Alright, baby” she said to the machine as she proceeded to run the first tests, “let’s see if I managed to fix you…”

Meanwhile, Yamcha and Krillin waited outside, inside a little Capsule Corp. house Bulma had installed, with Khalla’s permission, in the old woman’s backyard. It was small but comfortable, with only two bedrooms, which meant that the two men had been taking turns sleeping on the couch, chivalrously allowing Bulma to sleep on one of the beds full-time.

They were in the middle of a card game when the scientist’s voice sounded through the intercom.

“Guys?” she asked.

Yamcha approached the communication device, pressing the button.

“What’s up?”

 “I think I fixed it! The system seems to be working! I’ll check if the memory hard drives are working properly and if the recording’s still in there…” she replied, sounding really excited.

“That’s great, B.! Do you want us to go in there with you?”

There was a short silence.

“Um… No… I think it’s better if I listen to it by myself first if you guys don’t mind…” she said almost shyly.

“Sure, no problem… Just let us know when you’re done…”

“I will… Uh, I gotta go…”

Bulma disconnected the intercom and Yamcha turned towards Krillin, who had been avidly listening to their brief conversation.

“You think she’ll be alright?” the bald man asked worriedly.

The scarred faced warrior exhaled tiredly, sitting on a chair in front of his friend.

“Probably not…” he mumbled. “Knowing Vegeta, his message won’t be very nice, uh?”

“I guess…” Krillin replied, deep in thought. “Especially if he was pissed off when he recorded it. Who knows what the fuck goes on inside that head of his…”

“I don’t know, pal…”

 _‘But what an idiot he is…’_ Yamcha thought to himself.

Back inside the ship, Bulma was sitting on the pilot’s chair, impatiently waiting for the system to run.

It worked.

She typed in the security codes and she saw a red light blinking on the corner of the screen.

Vegeta’s message.

Bulma took a deep breath and she pressed the _OK_ button…

The sound of the recording wasn’t very good, and she could hear a lot of noise in the background. And then she heard it, hard breathing, which she immediately recognized as Vegeta’s.

A deep voice spoke, just for her…

 

**_“Woman… What the… What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”_ **

He sounded furious, panting heavily, and she could tell that he was unsuccessfully trying to keep his anger in check.

**_“What…? WHO SAID YOU HAD THE RIGHT TO FOLLOW ME? STAY AWAY FROM ME!!!”_ **

Bulma was trembling, utterly distraught. She’d never been on the receiving end of Vegeta’s fury. Not like this. They’d had their little arguments here and there, but deep down she’d known they’d both enjoyed pissing off one another.

But this was different.

This was pure, unadulterated rage.

**_“Where is he? Did you bring him with you, just like you did with the androids?”_ **

Trunks.

He was talking about Trunks.

Was he finally showing concern towards his son?

**_“Just go back, woman! Go back and take care of YOUR child!”_ **

Her tears started to fall.

 _Her_ child?

Fuck!

More harsh breathing.

**_“You had no right… No right…”_ **

His voice was lower now.

**_“No right… I don’t… I don’t understand you…”_ **

Confusion.

**_“You were safe now… You and the child… You were both safe…”_ **

The woman listened to the Prince’s voice, which had started to change, almost as if he were talking to himself now, trying to gather his own thoughts.

**_“You were safe from me…”_ **

“No…” she whispered, as if he could hear her.

Safe from him? Did Vegeta think he was a danger to them? The heiress knew the Saiyan would never hurt them. Maybe he thought he’d hurt them emotionally?

He didn’t talk for a while, but she could tell he’d been pacing and panting, probably as a result of trying to exercise some self-control.

Finally, he whispered…

**_“Bulma…”_ **

She felt her chest tighten at the sound of her name on his lips. His voice was deep, masculine and intimate, and it reminded her of the private moments they’d shared during their nights together…

**_“Bulma… I see him… I see him, Bulma…”_ **

There was something frantic in his voice, almost haunted.

**_“My father… What a joke…”_ **

He laughed a sad, tragic laugh…

**_“What a joke…”_ **

The blue haired beauty was now nervously biting the nail of her right thumb, eyes wide open, tears falling from them…

**_“He laughs at me, Bulma… I… I’m trying to show him… To show him what I’m capable of… But it’s not enough…”_ **

There was a hard sound, like a blow, and she guessed he’d hit something.

**_“It’s never enough…”_ **

He sounded like a child, like a lost, confused child…

**_“He wants me to stay away from you… He… You… He says you’re not good for me… Not good… He mocks me in my dreams… My nightmares…”_ **

There were some unintelligible sounds, and Vegeta was almost whispering by now. Bulma held her breath, struggling to hear him…

**_“Can you believe that? He tells me you’ll only bring me pain… Pain and shame… I…”_ **

His voice was trembling, and he let out a shaky breath…

**_“I tell him he’s a liar! A fucking liar! I tell… I tell him you take it away… You take the pain away…”_ **

He chuckled, a laugh full of agony and despair…

**_“What a fucking joke… I ask him… I ask him why… Why did he give me away? Why didn’t I die with my people? I just… What a fucking joke my life’s been…”_ **

No. Bulma nervously shook her head. No!

He wanted to die? Was that his plan? Was he on some kind of reckless suicide mission?

**_“You have to stay away from me, Bulma… I’m no good… The boy… You keep him safe… You two just… Stay away from me…”_ **

“No!” she yelled.

**_“Take care of my boy… Just... Stay away from me! DON’T COME LOOKING FOR ME! YOU HEAR ME?! STAY AWAY!!”_ **

She heard him roar in desperation, exploding in a cloud of raw misery.

And then, there was nothing…

 

******************************************

 

Yamcha yawned loudly as he realized he’d just lost another card game to Krillin. He stood up and stretched his back until something audibly popped. He then walked towards one of the house’s little windows, from which he could see the ship. It had been more than an hour since he’d last talked to his ex-girlfriend.

“You think she’s doing alright?” Krillin asked all of a sudden with a concerned voice.

“I don’t know… It’s been a while, right? You think I should call and ask her?” Yamcha replied.

“Yeah, I have a bad feeling… Use the intercom, just in case…”

The taller man approached the communication device and he pressed the button.

“Bulma?”

Silence.

“Hey, B.! Is everything OK?”

Silence.

He turned towards Krillin, who was already standing up next to him, and both men exchanged a questioning look.

“You think we should go?” Yamcha asked.

The bald man nodded, already walking to the door, ready to exit their new little home. Yamcha followed him, and soon both warriors found themselves standing at the vehicle’s heavy gate.

“Bulma?” Yamcha asked again, softly knocking.

Nothing.

“Bulma! I’m coming in, alright?” He warned, attempting to open the door and realizing it wasn’t even locked.

“Shit!” Krillin whispered as they both saw what their friend was up to.

In front of them, Bulma was sitting on the floor, with her back against the wall. She’d wrapped herself in her now familiar blue blanket, her slender arms strongly clutching her knees against her chest, rocking back and forth like a terrified child that had just seen a monster under the bed. She kept biting one of her thumbnails, her eyes wide open, red and swollen from crying, and she looked completely absent.

Yamcha cautiously walked towards her, as if he were a hunter afraid of alarming his prey. These new circumstances scared the crap out of him, for he’d never ever seen the heiress in this condition.

“Bulma?” He asked softly.

She ignored him, still staring at an indefinite point…

“Babe? Are you alright?” He asked again, kneeling in front of her.

“Khalla…” She finally whispered, still not looking at him.

“What?”

Bulma finally set her drained blue eyes on her ex-lover and she asked again.

“Khalla… P-please… I need her…” she said with pleading eyes.

“Uh… Um… Of course, B., I’ll go get her…” the now astonished man replied to her.

He stood up and walked towards the door, where Krillin had silently been observing the unnerving scene. They both looked at each other.

“She wants to see the older woman” Yamcha whispered, trying to prevent the scientist from hearing them. “What do you think she wants?”

“I don’t know” the bald man honestly replied. “Maybe she just needs to talk to a woman? Let’s just bring her in; I don’t like what’s happening here…”

Yamcha nodded and exited the ship with the intention of finding the woman, meanwhile, Krillin just stood in there with his arms crossed, not wanting to disturb the scientist but incapable of leaving her alone either. He was joined by his friend and Khalla a few minutes later.

“Oh, dear…” The older woman whispered. “May I ask what happened to her?” She asked in shock.

“We’re not sure” Krillin replied. “I think she finally managed to listen to Vegeta’s message. She didn’t tell us anything, she just asked for you…”

Khalla nodded in understanding, thinking it was very possible that the beautiful woman simply wouldn’t feel comfortable discussing private matters of the heart with her two male companions.

“I believe we should first remove her from the floor and place her in a more comfortable position”, the older woman finally said.

Yamcha didn’t hesitate in following her suggestion and he walked again towards Bulma, who still seemed to be lost in thought, and quite unaware of her surroundings.

“Khalla is here, B.” He whispered as if she were a frightened kid. “Would you like to talk to her now?”

Those large blue eyes looked up at him again, and she nodded, stretching her arms towards him in a silent plea for help. She was so fatigued she could barely find the strength to stand up on her own two legs. Yamcha gently held her in his arms and he walked towards the ship’s small living area, he sat her down on the couch and he made sure she remained wrapped protectively in her cozy blue blanket.

“Do you want something else, B.? Some tea?”

“Please…” she whispered. “And could you make another one for Khalla?”

“You got it, B.” he replied, inwardly relieved that she at least seemed to be slowly coming out of her cocoon.

Meanwhile, the woman had approached Bulma and she’d sat down next to her, silently waiting until the young scientist felt comfortable enough to talk to her. While she waited, she couldn’t help but look around, admiring the advanced technology surrounding her.

“I built it for him” the heiress whispered.

“I beg your pardon, Miss Bulma?” Khalla replied, slightly startled by the blue haired woman’s voice.

“Just Bulma, Khalla. You don’t have to call me Miss anymore, we’re friends now, right?” she said with a sad smile on her face.

“Um, of course, Bulma… What were you saying…?”

“Here’s the tea!” Yamcha happily informed as he placed a small tray in front of them. He thought chamomile tea would be a good choice and it would perhaps help sooth his friend’s nerves.

“Would you like some sugar in yours, Khalla?” he offered.

The older woman looked at the man, and he quickly realized she had no idea what sugar was.

“It’s, uh, it’s a substance we put in our drinks to make them sweeter…” Yamcha explained.

“In that case, I’ll try it; thank you, young man…”

The scarred faced warrior finished preparing the women’s drinks and he excused himself, leaving the ship with Krillin and going back to their provisional house, not before reminding Bulma that they’d be there in case there was anything she needed. Both women took a sip of their herbal teas, and Khalla marveled at how delicious the beverage actually was. After a couple of minutes, Bulma felt ready to talk again.

“I was saying that… That I built the ship for Vegeta…” she said in a low voice.

“Really? All on your own?” the woman replied with honest surprise.

“Not really, although I could have, it would simply have taken longer to make it… No, I made it with my dad and a few of our employees. I come from a family of scientists… Well, at least on my father’s side…”

 _‘Impressive’_ Khalla thought.

“So… You made this ship for Lord Vegeta so that he could leave your planet?” she asked gingerly, trying to understand the situation a little bit better.

“No…” she shook her head. “Well, yes… I mean, it is a ship but, it has other purposes too…”

“Such as?”

“You see this room around us? Well, it can also turn into a gravity room… It basically increases the density of the gravity inside the ship, and it makes it very difficult to move and even breathe in it… I built it for him, so… So he could get stronger…”

Khalla remained silent for a moment, trying to assimilate this new information. The woman had actually helped their new Lord to get stronger, which probably meant they were at least on friendly terms.

“There was a conflict on my planet… We were warned by… Uh… By someone… About an upcoming battle and all of my friends trained very hard for several years to prepare for it…” Bulma continued. She carefully avoided mentioning certain details, such as her planet’s name or the Mirai Trunks story, in order to protect her home and her people from any danger; but at the same time, she felt the need to talk to this woman, to make her understand what she and Vegeta had gone through somehow. She needed some wise advice, because right now, she really didn’t know what to do anymore…

“So… Lord Vegeta was your friend back then?”

“You could say that… He certainly vowed to fight by our side. Which he did,” Bulma proudly replied.

“I’m assuming you won the battle?”

“We did, although it was brutal… It turned out to be much harder than any of us had anticipated…”

“And Lord Vegeta left after the battle, I presume…”

Bulma nodded.

“Pretty much… Yeah, he did… I… He didn’t really say goodbye or anything, he just…”

The heiress stopped talking, feeling her lower lip tremble. He’d really ruined her, hadn’t he? There she was, Bulma Briefs, a woman that could literally have any man she pretty much wanted, and she’d managed to find herself on a frozen planet in the middle of space, chasing ghosts…

“Were you…? Were you expecting him to stay? Is that what this is all about, Bulma?”

 The younger woman sighed and nodded again.

“You could say that… Yes, I… I thought he was one of us now… But… I just… I wonder if I’ve just been fooling myself all this time…”

“Perhaps you haven’t…” Khalla retorted knowingly.

“What do you mean?” Bulma replied, her eyes widening, full of curiosity.

“Well… It always seemed to me that he… That he was one of those people that weren’t exactly designed to fit in anywhere… Even if his race had survived, I… And again, this is just my opinion but, I really think he would have, at the very least, changed quite a few things about his people’s costumes…”

“Did you… Did you know more Saiyans, Khalla?”

The older woman nodded.

“I did. I was young once myself, young lady…” she said with a warm, nostalgic smile.

“I actually got to see Lord Vegeta’s father on a few occasions.”

“K-King Vegeta?” the heiress asked in shock.

“That’s right. King Vegeta himself. It was long after the Saiyans had lost their independence; I believe his son was already under Frieza’s custody at the time, and his father and a few of his people visited this planet a few times, always to retrieve whatever Frieza required back then…”

“You mean the pieces you built for him?”

“That and some other things, sometimes…”

“L-Like what?” Bulma asked, having the feeling that she wouldn’t like the answer.

“He sometimes retrieved people too, Bulma. Frieza was always in dire need of personal slaves, and sometimes he sent some of his men to select a few chosen ones that would serve our Master in his personal residences.”

“That bastard…” the blue haired woman mumbled.

Khalla exhaled tiredly, and she grimaced.

“That he was… Yes… I… I lost one of my daughters that way…” she finally confessed.

“In what way? Was she one of Frieza’s personal slaves too?” Bulma asked in shock, now experiencing a great deal of pity towards the woman sitting next to her. Who knew what kind of things she’d actually had to live through…

“She was. She was taken by one of the Prince’s friends. I don’t recall his name, he was… He was the one with no hair...”

“Nappa?”

“Yes, I believe that was his name. He was a brute…” she whispered angrily.

“I never met him, but I saw him fight once. He didn’t seem to be a good man…”

 _‘Then again, neither did Vegeta’_ she thought.

“He wasn’t.” Khalla firmly said. “He was one of those men that seemed to enjoy abusing his power and just taking whatever he wanted… Including my daughter… He first saw her while she was working on one of our factories and… Well, I suppose he became a bit infatuated… My daughter was a really beautiful woman, Bulma. Beauty can be a curse sometimes…”

Bulma remained silent, knowing extremely well what the woman was talking about. The scientist had always been aware of her beauty, especially since she’d been one of those girls that had blossomed at such a young age, and while sometimes her good looks had helped her navigate through life, she’d also experienced a lot of unwanted attention and prejudice from those who still seemed to believe than beauty and brains were incompatible.

“So… Nappa took her for her beauty?”

“Eventually, yes… But the Prince stopped him at first…”

“How?” the heiress eagerly asked, now fascinated by the woman’s story.

“Well… I guess the man had decided to take her to Frieza, but he wanted to… To, you know… To _‘use’_ her first” Khalla said with a voice laced in pain.

“Oh, Gods…” Bulma whispered in horror.

“One night my daughter came home later than usual, her wrists were wounded, full of scratches, as if she’d been fighting someone that had been holding her against her will… She was crying, very upset… She said Nappa had approached her after she’d been done with her day’s work and he’d tried to… To abuse her…”

“And?”

“Prince Vegeta showed up just in time and he released my girl from Nappa’s clutches, ordering her to go home… The Prince never mentioned the incident to me, but the day after, several people from our village swore they’d seen Nappa beaten up, really badly, and I’m guessing Lord Vegeta was the only one at the time that would have had the strength to fight that beast…”

An unruly tear fell from Bulma’s eye.

Vegeta had saved a woman from being raped, and then he’d punished that bald bastard. That incident alone showed her that her man had some principles, even back then.

“They both left a couple of days later, with a group Frieza’s men and a few people from our small town to serve as slaves.”

“They took your daughter?”

“Not yet. No… They… They came back, about two or three months later, and then Nappa took her to Frieza. She died less than a year after they enslaved her…”

“Do you… Do you know how she d-died?”

“Some kind of lung disease. My girl wasn’t physically very strong, I was told the working conditions were too hard on her fragile body and she didn’t make it…”

“So… Vegeta finally allowed Nappa to take her?” Bulma asked, now completely horrified about the whole story.

“I doubt it. He didn’t come with him the second time Nappa visited our planet. I heard some rumors that he wasn’t in good terms with his Master and Frieza had sent him away on some really dangerous mission all by himself… Of course, those were just rumors… Here, we never knew anything for sure…”

Both women remained quiet for a few minutes while they finished their drinks.

Bulma realized, once again, that the warrior had been raised in a very dark world indeed, and her father’s thoughts came to her mind one more time. Could it be conceivable that Vegeta thought he didn’t deserve a life filled with peace and love? He’d certainly never experienced it before, of that she was sure, and it was very possible that he simply hadn’t been able to consider that option in life.

And then there was that recording.

She shivered, the memory of his voice covering her skin in goosebumps.

Yes, he’d been furious at first, clearly trying to convince her to go home, to stay away from him. But then, as he’d gradually calmed down and he’d opened himself more and more to her, she realized that he probably felt he was protecting her by staying away from her and Trunks. He’d talked about nightmares, filled with his father’s voice, shaming and mocking him. That bastard! How was it even possible that Vegeta still felt indebted towards the King and his people when they’d all failed him so? He’d been just a boy, a young little boy surrounded by terrifying conditions. And yet, even though she was certain he’d done horrible things, Khalla’s story confirmed what she’d suspected all along: there was more to the Saiyan Prince than met the eye. Back on Earth, Bulma had already managed to slowly bring down those walls he’d so carefully built around him over the years, and she got the feeling he’d even started to enjoy life with her and their son…

 _“Take care of my boy”_ he’d said…

His boy…

Abruptly, Khalla’s voice brought her back to the present.

“Bulma, I hope you don’t find me too intrusive but… Did you… Did you two have more than a friendship?”

The scientist was quiet for a moment, calculating what she should and shouldn’t share about her relationship with the Prince. She knew he was now in a very powerful position, and that would make her and Trunks extremely vulnerable to anyone that would want to use them to try to hurt or manipulate the Saiyan warrior.

“No… Not really…” she finally replied. “But I admit that… That I was hoping our friendship would perhaps develop into something more meaningful in the future…”

“I see…” Khalla replied, unconvinced by Bulma’s answer but not willing to push the issue any further in case she’d offend the younger woman. Whatever the case, it was pretty clear she’d succeeded in getting closer to the Saiyan Prince than anyone ever had. This should be reason enough, in her opinion, to encourage her to pursue the young man…

“Do you think he was happy on your planet with you and your friends, Bulma?”

The blue haired woman shrugged in despair.

“I guess… I used to think he was… Our planet is very beautiful Khalla, and we’ve mostly lived in times of peace. I believe Vegeta would have been happy with us but now… Now I just don’t know! I mean, how could we compete with all of this? How?”

“What do you mean?”

“ _Lord_ Vegeta…” she said, mockery in her voice. “I mean… He _is_ a Prince, isn’t he? He probably believes he was born for this. You know, world domination… All of that… How could a quiet life on some distant planet compete with the power he holds right now…”

“Child,” Khalla firmly said. “If you believe these new circumstances have brought joy to that man’s life you’re truly mistaken. I… I do not presume to know what goes on inside his head but… All I know is that the man I witnessed was not a happy man, and he should have been, given the situation… You’re right, he used to talk about this day even back then…”

“What day?” Bulma curiously asked.

“The day he’d take Frieza’s place, of course! I was around him on a few occasions when he was younger and he used to visit our planet and, well, he was a very different man back then… He used to talk about some legend… Some kind of power that he was born to possess and he said when that happened he’d kill his Master and rule in his place…”

“The legend…” the scientist whispered… “He did, you know?”

“He did what, child?” Khalla asked in confusion.

“He did it! He became a Super Saiyan! The legendary…”

“So, it was true then?”

Bulma nodded.

“It was, yes… I like to believe I contributed a little… I mean, I know he achieved it on his own, but I built this ship so he could train…”

The older woman pondered over what Bulma just said. If her words were true, her new Lord owed the beautiful woman a large debt, and he would never hurt her no matter what.

“Are you going to keep looking for him, Bulma?” she finally asked.

“I don’t know, Khalla… Honestly… I wouldn’t even know where to look… And now that he doesn’t have the ship anymore, I can’t even track his position…” the blue haired woman replied in defeat.

“I’m pretty sure I know where he is right now…”

“What? Where?”

“I think he’s on Planet Z365,” Khalla said with conviction.

“Wha… How would you know that? Did he tell you?” Bulma said, shocked that her man would have shared that information that freely.

“No, he didn’t, but I heard some of the soldiers mention it as they were leaving. Plus, there have been lots of rumors about him and his men having established their main base on that planet. It used to be one of the most luxurious places owned by Frieza back in the day…”

“Really?” The younger woman said, deep in thought.

“Why… Why would he want people to know where he lives? Wouldn’t that put him in great danger?” she asked worriedly.

“Not necessarily, child. No… You see? The place has great security. I believe it has some form of protective shield and not everyone can be granted permission to land on its surface.”

“Mmmm… I don’t know Khalla… I don’t think he’d be happy to see me now. In the recording, he… He made it clear he wanted us to go back home…” Bulma whispered sadly.

“I’m convinced he was just trying to protect you. If you’re friends, I’m sure deep down he’ll be glad to see you. You have nothing to lose, Bulma. If there’s a chance you two could be happy together, you must try.”

“You really think so, Khalla?”

Bulma held the other woman’s hand, looking for comfort and advice, her blue eyes now burning with unshed tears. Khalla squeezed back.

“I do. Bulma, I… I might not have the knowledge in science and so many of the things you know about but… But there’s one thing I know, child: life is precious. This can be a dark universe but sometimes, sometimes we find beauty in it, Bulma, and we must fight for whatever happiness we can get. Lord Vegeta… I’m sure he’s a man of many flaws, but perhaps he deserves another chance in life. Maybe he could share that new life with you…”

The heiress remained silent, quietly crying as she held Khalla’s hand. Her mind was bursting with thoughts, fighting an internal conflict: her brain said no, but her heart… Her heart was saying yes…

And Bulma Briefs always trusted her heart.

She let go of the woman’s hand, wiped her tears from her face and she stood up.

“Alright then. We’ll go find that stubborn Saiyan!” she said resolutely.

Khalla chuckled, glad to see the fire back in the young woman’s spirit. And as she saw her walk towards the console, sitting on the pilot’s chair, she figured that the powerful man had probably fallen in love with that spirit. The girl looked physically fragile, but her mind was strong, her soul brave, and her heart seemed to be in the right place.

“OK, Khalla, would you be able to give me the coordinates of Planet Z365?” Bulma asked, looking at the computer’s screen.

 

*********************************************

 

Yamcha yawned idly as he laid on his bed, covered by the cozy blankets, with his arms crossed behind his neck and his eyes staring at the ceiling.

It had been eleven days since they’d abandoned the frozen planet in search of Vegeta, and the loneliness of space was really starting to take its toll on all the inhabitants of the ship. Especially on Bulma.

This second trip had been different from the first. While before she’d shared most of her time with Krillin and him, the woman was now spending most of it by herself in her tiny cabin. She only joined them during meal times and, every now and then, to do something like watch a movie or play a card game, but mostly, the heiress had managed to isolate herself.

The scarred faced warrior got up and walked lazily towards his private shower. At least, his ex-girlfriend had repaired their ship as well before they’d departed, which meant this second trip had been much more comfortable now that they had access to hot water and heating.

Yamcha removed his clothes and he stepped into the hot shower, starting to get ready for their second adventure. Bulma had told them they would reach the planet in a matter of hours, three according to the information Khalla had provided for them. The old woman had proven to be a valuable asset. Not only had she helped them by giving them directions, but during her private conversation with the scientist, she’d somehow managed to cheer her up. By the time Bulma had left Vegeta’s ship to get into their tiny house, she’d looked like a different woman, a far cry from the nervous wreck he’d seen a few hours earlier…

The man closed his eyes and he allowed himself to relax as the hot water soothed his stiff muscles, praying that they’d finally find the Prince in this new planet.

While Yamcha was in the shower, Bulma and Krillin drank some tea in the kitchenette. The woman looked different, almost anxious, and the bald warrior couldn’t help but try to calm her down a bit.

“Are you OK, Bulma? Don’t worry, I’m sure Vegeta will be on the next planet…” he said softly.

“I know, I can feel him…” she simply replied.

“You what?”

“I… I can’t explain it Krillin, but… I can feel his presence the closer we get to the planet…”

She wasn’t lying to her friend. She didn’t know why or how, but for a few hours now, she’d been able to feel Vegeta’s energy somehow. She thought of Piccolo and his bond theory, and she really started to believe there might have been some truth to it.

“Do you feel his ki, Krillin?”

The man frowned, trying to concentrate.

Nothing.

“No, sorry Bulma…” he replied, secretly wondering if the woman was telling the truth or if she was simply going insane.

He knew Goku had telepathic abilities, and he felt that perhaps the fact that Bulma and Vegeta had shared an intimate relationship had something to do with her strong intuition where he was concerned.

Just as he was about to ask her a few questions, he felt the ship jolt violently. He was quick enough to grab Bulma before she fell on the floor, and he heard Yamcha yelp from his room.

“What the fuck was that?” Krillin asked.

“What…?” Bulma was shaken, her legs trembling as she struggled to find her balance once again. She took a deep breath and she walked towards the console.

“We stopped.”

“What? W-What do you mean _we stopped_?”

“I was expecting something like this to happen…” Bulma said, trying to remain calm.

“Khalla told me the planet had heavy security.”

Suddenly they heard Yamcha’s voice.

“Guys? What’s going on?”

Bulma turned towards him, only to find him wearing just a white towel wrapped around his waist.

“Yamcha! What are you doing?” 

“Uh? What do you mean? I almost broke my neck in the shower! What the fuck is…?”

The lights went out, and the dim emergency lights automatically went on. The travelers heard a buzzing noise and abruptly, a giant holographic screen appeared inside the ship’s main room.

All three of them turned at once towards it, only to be faced by a purple skinned alien whose face resembled that of a very strange fish.

“Identification” he said in a strong monotone voice.

The earthlings stared at each other and just as Yamcha was about to open his mouth, Bulma cut him off, holding her hand in front of him.

“Let me do this” she whispered.

She then turned towards the screen, cleared her throat and she firmly said.

“My name is Bulma Briefs, and I wish to speak to your Master, Lord Vegeta”.

The alien blinked and suspiciously squinted his eyes.

“Is Lord Vegeta expecting your visit?”

“I believe he is. Very much so.”

Krillin and Yamcha witnessed the exchange of words, absolutely dumbfounded by the female’s confident tone. If she was nervous or scared, she wasn’t showing it, and both men couldn’t help but admire her magnificent acting skills.

“One moment, please. I must go check this information with my superiors.”

The alien disappeared, but the holographic screen was still on, and the space ship almost in the dark.

“Yamcha, don’t you think you should go get dressed?” Krillin said.

“Uh, yeah, sure… I’ll be right back!”

Bulma tiredly sat down on the pilot’s chair and the bald man soon joined her, sitting right next to her. No words were exchanged as both friends waited impatiently. About ten minutes later, the fish faced alien showed up on screen again.

“Lord Vegeta has granted you permission to land on Planet Z365. We will proceed to tow your vehicle immediately”.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah...
> 
> Who's ready for a reunion?


	14. A Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta are finally reunited...

Yamcha hastily removed the shirt he usually wore underneath his gi as he watched Krillin do the same. Bulma was sitting next to him, still on the pilot’s seat, and he noticed she’d already removed her jumper too and she’d pulled her hair into a messy bun.

The heat was suffocating.

About fifteen minutes had passed since they’d landed on Planet Z365 and they were still inside the ship, waiting for the warriors outside to open the gate and let them out. The technology those people possessed was impressive, even to Bulma, since they’d been able to disconnect their control system entirely, leaving their vehicle completely at their mercy. As a result, the woman had been unable to analyze a single aspect of their new destination. The only thing they knew for sure was that the weather appeared to be quite close to a tropical one, both hot and humid at the same time. The blue haired woman was about to suggest they all went to their cabins to change into something a bit lighter when, out of the blue, the door of the space ship opened automatically.

Bulma was the first to stand.

“Alright boys, this is it,” she said determinedly.

“Remember, do not give them any information about our planet of origin and try not to show any sign of fear.”

Both men stood up, walking by her side as she strode towards the exit. They all paused for an instant as they reached the gate, looking outside with inquisitive eyes, trying to find out what exactly they were about to deal with.

“Wow…” Krillin whispered in awe.

Planet Z365 was extremely different from the frozen planet they’d last visited. It reminded Bulma of planet Mars, full of red land and an orange-red sky to match, accompanied by an almost claustrophobic hot humidity and an abundance of jungle-like vegetation that looked nothing like the plants and trees from Earth.

As the earthlings exited the ship, they noticed they’d landed on some kind of path, perhaps the equivalent of a landing track, and there were only two people in sight, standing outside the space vehicle, disinterestedly waiting for the visitors to approach them. The first thing Yamcha and Krillin did as they saw the two warriors was concentrate, trying to guess their power level.

It was high.

Both of them were much stronger than the scarred faced warrior, and one seemed to be about as powerful as Krillin, the other one being quite stronger than the bald man. The warriors were wearing scouters, which meant they were probably unable to fully read their power levels without help, and they wouldn’t know the humans could hide and modify theirs.

The three comrades confidently walked towards the red planet’s inhabitants, until they found themselves standing right in front of them. Bulma instantly recognized the tallest one as the fish faced alien that had first questioned them through the holographic screen inside the ship, the other one was much shorter, had bright pink skin and he provided Krillin with an immediate sense of déjà vu as he recalled his battle on Namek: he seemed to belong to Dodoria’s race.

Both alien warriors stood silently, switching on their scouters and proceeding to get a glimpse of the visitors’ power levels, which they’d been wise enough to hide as much as they could. Even though Krillin and Yamcha didn’t possess a large amount of strength, they figured that the least intimidating they looked the better. They could only hope Vegeta would still be on their side and he’d protect them from his new army of men.

After the aliens had made sure that the three travelers were harmless, they smirked smugly, looking at each other and swiftly turned to them.

“Follow us” the tallest one simply said, and he took off, flying, without even waiting for a reply.

The three friends exchanged a quick glance, they nodded and followed them. Yamcha held Bulma tightly as he flew her, and he thanked the Gods it was a short flight, because having to hold the hot and slightly sweaty beauty in his arms was certainly reawakening memories he’d thought buried in his memory long ago…

About ten minutes later, the aliens landed in front of a large building, and the earthlings quickly imitated them. Once they were all on firm ground, they were finally able to examine their surroundings, and they couldn’t help but gawk at the sight: in front of them stood the most luxurious palace they’d ever seen, surrounded by beautiful gardens filled with colorful flowers all around it.

“We have been ordered to take you to your rooms” the pink skinned alien neutrally said as he walked into the building.

Bulma bravely followed the man, fiercely protected by Yamcha and Krillin walking right behind, and she marveled at the beauty around her. The palace was made of some kind of polished white stone she couldn’t identify, and it shone proudly, reminding the heiress of a little trip to India she’d made with her parents as a child, during which they’d visited the Taj Mahal. The inside of the building was still quite hot and humid, although it felt cooler than the weather outside.

Suddenly, the woman shivered, and she knew it had nothing to do with the temperature.

It was because of him.

She didn’t know how, but she could feel him.

He was close, so close she could taste him, and yet, despite the fact that she’d dreamt about this moment for months, she had a bad feeling deep inside the pit of her stomach she couldn’t fully identify, but that was internally driving her insane.

Bulma felt his emotions, a hazardous combination of confusion and anticipation, but above all, anger.

He was furious, she could tell, and the palms of her hands slowly covered themselves in cold sweat as the woman felt the urge to put her arms around her in an attempt to seek some comfort.

But of course, she didn’t.

Bulma Briefs was no coward, she was a woman on a mission, and she’d already promised herself she’d do anything in her power to bring the Saiyan Prince back home, where he belonged. And the more she looked around her, the more she felt this place wasn’t made for either of them.

This was Frieza’s residence: white, immaculate and cold.

In spite of its obvious beauty, the frozen palace was giving her the creeps, and she knew deep down that Vegeta had been a million times happier back of Earth, with her, in her luxurious but warm home, and that’s where she intended to take him as soon as she could. If he’d only let her…

The long hallway they’d been walking through reached its end, coming across a bifurcation, and the aliens stopped walking, they turned around and spoke once again, pointing towards Krillin and Yamcha.

“The woman will come with us now. You two, wait here until we take you to your rooms”, the fish faced warrior said.

“Like hell we will!” Yamcha yelled protectively.

The alien raised an eyebrow, amused by the weakling’s hot headed reaction. He smirked as he replied.

“Listen, boy, we’re just following orders. Lord Vegeta wants the woman to stay close to his personal chambers, and that’s where she’s going, whether you like it or not”.

“Are we going to have a problem?” the pink skinned alien asked popping his knuckles, eager to start a fight.

“There’s no problem at all, gentlemen”, Bulma replied, giving her ex-lover a look of warning.

“I actually prefer to remain close to Lord Vegeta, given that I have business to discuss with him”.

Yamcha and Krillin nodded, trying to remind themselves that Vegeta would never hurt their friend.

“Alright”, the scarred faced human said, gently squeezing the heiress’ hand and whispering in her ear.

“Be careful, B., if something bad happens yell and run as fast as you can, we’ll stay alert in case there’s anything you need”.

Bulma nodded, waving goodbye to her friends and following the aliens throughout a new and different hallway. This one was narrower and darker, the heavy burgundy curtains that hung by the windows were almost entirely closed, giving the place a gloomy vibe. It was a far cry from the luminous ambiance she’d viewed when she’d first entered the palace.

They walked for a couple of minutes before they reached a large golden door, they stood in front of it and the Dodoria-like alien opened the heavy gate, stretching his arm, silently ordering her to enter the room behind him.

“Lord Vegeta will see you tonight. He wishes you to remain here until then. There is a large bath tub in the private bathroom and clean towels in case you want to _freshen up_ ”, he said that last thing with a lecherous look on his face that made Bulma inwardly cringe in disgust.

“Food and water will be delivered into your room in a few minutes”.

Before the blue haired woman had time to reply, the massive door loudly closed behind her, leaving her completely alone inside her new room.

Bulma stood by the door for a few seconds, trying to assimilate everything that had just happened. She shook her head in frustration and she finally took a look around her, inspecting her new surroundings with inquisitiveness. The room was massive, at least four times larger than her bedroom back on Earth, but again, there was nothing warm or cozy about it. It was almost empty, all white stone with touches of red and gold, and she quickly guessed that not only had Frieza been an evil bastard, but his taste had also been very ‘ _nouveau riche’_ so to speak.

The scientist slowly paced through the room, admiring the minimalist but tacky décor, and she knew without a doubt that this had nothing to do with Vegeta’s taste. Back on Earth, the warrior had selected one of the smallest guest rooms available at Capsule Corp., choosing to sleep on a large chair by the window until he’d finally been able to get used to sleeping on the single bed provided for him. Bulma and her mother had tried to encourage him to make him feel at home, and the older woman had even offered to buy new furniture for the Prince, but he wouldn’t have it, claiming to have more than enough to satisfy his needs. For a Royal, the Saiyan had lived his life frugally, and his only requirements had been high quality training equipment, abundant food and clean clothes.

After discovering the large bathroom, which contained both a huge bath tub and a separate shower, Bulma tiredly sat on the bed. She felt sad, she truly did. Even though she knew she’d finally be able to see Vegeta and talk to him that night, she was also disappointed by how icy and impersonal these new circumstances seemed to be.

Would he be happy to see her on some level? Sure, she’d felt his anger, and she knew he’d probably behave like an asshole at first, but the romantic silly little girl that still lived inside of her was also hoping he’d missed her as much as she’d missed him.

Bulma finally stood up, choosing to take a shower, since she felt hot, sweaty and disgusting after her long trip and the unexpected tropical weather they’d encountered. She briefly wondered how Krillin and Yamcha were doing, hoping they wouldn’t get in trouble because of her.

The woman entered the bathroom, locking the wooden door behind her, and she stared at her reflection in the mirror.

She looked terrible, or maybe she thought she did because that’s also how she felt emotionally. Her practical side overcame her vanity, and she decided she’d simply shower and put on some fresh, comfortable clothes. After all, she knew she’d need more than her physical beauty in order to convince the Prince to go back home with her and their son.

Trunks.

She missed her baby so much some days she could barely get out of bed, and as she allowed the cool water to fall over her skin inside the shower, she let the tears fall once again, knowing that when she faced her man she’d have to display the strength that she knew the Saiyan had fallen in love with in the past. She lathered up both her hair and her body, she rinsed thoroughly and she exited the shower, wrapping her tiny body on a clean towel as she walked towards the bed. Bulma searched through her red belt for the capsule that contained her clothes, she opened it and she absentmindedly went through the enormous pile of garments now spread on the bed. She chose a white summer dress with thin straps, a close-fitting waist that complimented her figure and a loose skirt that reached her knees; she also selected a pair of red sandals. It was the right choice, both casual and pretty. She encapsulated the clothes again, she hid the belt underneath the large mattress and she languidly lay on the bed, falling into a deep sleep almost immediately.   

 

************************************************************

 

The heiress had no idea how long she’d been asleep for, all she knew was that by the time the loud knock on the door finally awoke her, the sky was already dark. She sleepily sat down on the bed as the fish faced alien opened the door after allowing her a couple of minutes of courtesy.

“It’s time” he simply said, waiting by the door with his arms crossed.

Bulma blinked lazily, forcing herself to wake up as she slowly crawled through the king-sized bed. She finally stood up and she walked towards the door, not before noticing a small cart by the bed, full of untouched food and drinks, someone must have brought for her while she was asleep.

She closely followed the alien warrior through the faintly lit corridors of the giant palace, silently yawning and trying to comb her still lightly damp hair with her slender fingers, wondering if she’d look like an unkempt mess in Vegeta’s eyes.

As she approached the Saiyan warrior, she found herself getting more and more nervous, a million contradictory thoughts going through her mind. What would he say to her? And what would he do when he finally saw her? Would he treat her like shit? She doubted it. Not after all the emotion she’d seen in those dark eyes the night before he’d left the Earth; their last night together.

Bulma run her hands over her dress, reminding herself that they had a history together. For Dende’s sake, they shared a son! A baby boy he’d asked her to take care of in that daunting recording she’d listened to…

The blue haired beauty was so lost in thought that she hadn’t seen the alien stop, making her almost collide with him. She was able to stop in time, startled, and she waited next to him, nervously fidgeting with her hands as the fished faced warrior finally opened the large wooden door that stood proudly right in front of them.

“He’s all yours…” the man said with an almost malicious smirk, seemingly finding the whole situation quite amusing.

“Thank you” she said, her head held high, with a confidence she really didn’t feel at the moment.

Bulma walked into the dark room, hearing the door stridently close behind her, she stood by the entrance, her drowsy eyes trying to get accustomed to the lack of light, and then she saw him.

He was standing by a large window, offering his naked back to her, with crossed arms and tense shoulders.

The window, like the ones from the corridors that led to this room, were also covered by almost shut heavy curtains, only this time the burgundy had been replaced by royal blue. His compact body was softly illuminated by the few moon rays that had been allowed inside the room. A few white candles, strategically placed throughout the closed space provided the rest of the light available that barely allowed her to see.

He remained immobile, looking outside the window, without talking or acknowledging her presence in any way. Bulma just stood there, almost hypnotized, the scene seemed surreal to her, and she felt tempted to pinch herself just to make sure she wasn’t actually dreaming.

“Bulma” he finally said, his tone firm but strangely polite.

The woman swallowed, her throat suddenly feeling awfully dry.

“Vegeta”, she replied in a similar tone.

He kept talking, still avoiding looking at her.

“Did you hear the message I left for you?” he asked neutrally.

“I did.”

Silence.

“And yet here you are…”

More silence, she had nothing to say to that, since it was pretty obvious she’d dared to disobey his orders.

He finally turned around, slowly facing her, and he proceeded to walk towards her. He looked like an animal, a dark sleek panther about to devour his innocent prey. He stopped in the middle of the room, his powerful arms still crossed in front of him defensively. She could barely distinguish the features of his face in the dark, what she did notice though, was that he seemed to be a tad thinner than he’d been back on Earth.

Bulma bit her lower lip, wanting nothing more at that moment than getting close to him, so she could look him in the eye and try to understand what the hell was going on inside the warrior’s head.

“Why are you here, _Bulma_?” he asked, his husky voice emphasizing her name, which he’d barely used back in her home planet, but he’d already used twice tonight.

“I came to take you home,” she bravely replied, trying to keep fear away from her slightly trembling voice.

He tilted his head to the right and she saw the hint of a smirk on his regal face.

“Home?”

“Yes, home.”

“With you?” He asked again.

By now the heiress was completely dumbfounded. Was he mocking her? She’d expected his fury, his passion, or probably a combination of both, but she certainly hadn’t expected him to mock her or to be condescending towards her.

“Yes, home. With me…” She paused. “With us,” she corrected.

“ _Us?_ You mean with you and the boy?” He asked playfully.

“Yes.” She replied again, trying to remain calm. Whatever reaction he was trying to get from her, she wasn’t going to give it to him. By now, she was starting to get the feeling that he was trying to behave like an asshole to push her away from him, and she’d be damned if she was going to allow that to happen. The Prince might have been a masterful tactician, but then again, so was she.

“And what makes you think I’m not at _home_ already?”

“Because this place is no one’s home,” she assuredly replied.

“Oh?” He asked, mocking curiosity in his tone.

“This is not a home, this is a mausoleum, and as far as I know you’re still alive, _Lord Vegeta_ ”, she obviously laughed at his ‘ _title’_ , wondering how seriously he’d actually taken his new role in the Universe.

Oh, yes…

She’d gotten a reaction out of him, alright... He was now walking towards her…   

He stood right in front of her, uncrossing his arms, staring at her. Even though she could now feel his warm breath over her pale face, his face remained half hidden in the shadows. If only she could look into those eyes…

“You think I’m alive, _Bulma_?” He asked in a low bedroom voice that made her body quiver.

The heiress slowly moved her hand, tenderly placing it on his robust chest, over his heart. It was beating strongly, just for her.

“You are very much alive, _my Prince_ ” she whispered almost seductively.

“You think so, uh?”

“I don’t think so. I can feel it, beating against my hand…”

Bulma could sense it.

Their bodies were already responding to their close proximity against their will. Her nostrils inhaled that earthy, musky scent that belonged so unmistakably to him, and she knew he was reacting to her on some level too, since his breathing was deeper and heavier now.

Dende! She wanted to kiss him! Having those lips softly panting over hers was maddening, and yet, even though he was finally so close to her, there was an impenetrable wall between them. A wall he’d craftily built around himself, a wall she’d destroyed little by little back on Earth, patiently and lovingly, over the course of three years. But things were different now, now they had a child that was waiting for them back home. Now, there was no time for bullshit. She had to get them out of this place as soon as she could.

His manly voice abruptly brought her back to reality, breaking the spell his body was casting over hers.

“Perhaps my body is lying to you, _Bulma_ … Perhaps I am dead already…”

His voice was still low, but the mockery was now being replaced by an almost haunted tone.

“Bullshit,” she replied, softly but firmly. “I’ve never met a man more alive than you are, Vegeta.”      

He hissed, letting out a low growl.

She was definitely awakening emotions inside of him…

And then he touched her.

The palm of his calloused hand placed itself over her sternum, and it slowly slid towards her neck, remaining there, thick fingers over her pulse, as he kept talking to her.

“Would you like to be Queen, _Bulma_? Is that what this is about?”

“W-What?” She asked, honestly surprised by this new question.

He laughed an evil, scornful laugh.

“You heard me, _Bulma_ , would you like to be Queen? To share my power? Would you enjoy ruling the Universe with me?”

“N-No…” She replied, confused.

_‘What the fuck?’_

Did he really think that’s what she wanted? Or was he still playing games, messing with her head?

“Think about it, _Bulma_ … You’d be by my side… The new ruler of the Universe…”

By now, the scientist didn’t really know what to think. Was he actually asking her to be his ‘ _Queen’_? Was he testing her ambition? Perhaps it was time to change tactics…

“Is that what you are now, Vegeta? _The new ruler of the Universe_?” she asked cockily, almost challengingly.

She felt his body respond to the challenge, his strong hand squeezing her neck, reassuring her than he was still in control without hurting her.

“Look around you, _Bulma_. What the fuck do you think this is all about?”

Her small hand covered the one wrapped around her neck, reminding him of her presence. If he wanted honesty, she’d give him honesty.

“Alright,” she started. “Honestly? When I look around me all I see is a fucking dead place, built by a fucking dead monster, and in front of me, all I see is an asshole that was too fucking scared to give life on Earth a fucking chance, so he chose to run away in order to fulfill some fucking world domination fantasy that he probably doesn’t even fucking have anymore”.

“The fuck did you say to me, woman?” He said angrily, his body trembling now, she didn’t know if he was furious or nervous about her having touched a nerve.

“You heard me, you idiot. This is not a place for either of us.”

His breathing accelerated, his large hand firmly in place around her long neck.

“And where do you think I should be, _Bulma_?”

“On Earth, with Trunks and I,” she finally replied, trying to remain calm.

“Oh, _really_?” He asked malevolently. “So, you’re suggesting that the Prince of all Saiyans gives up on the possibility of becoming ruler of the entire Universe so that he can go play house on some fucking backwater planet with a vulgar wench and a half-breed brat... Is that what you’re…?”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

He couldn’t.

Bulma slapped him so hard he actually felt it.

She hit him in the face and then she grasped his chin with one hand, her nails scratching his skin aggressively.

“Watch it, asshole!” She whispered angrily against his lips. “I know what you’re trying to do, and you can give me all the shit you want, but the Gods help me, if you _ever_ talk about _my_ baby like that again I’ll fucking murder you in your sleep…”

She was panting now, her angry breath grazing his lips…

She was furious, furious because she could feel him trying to revert to his old ways and failing miserably. He was lost somewhere between being a good man and an evil bastard, and she realized he probably didn’t know who he was anymore. So, she’d give him a little push…

She let go of him, shoving him off violently, away from her, she crossed her arms and she paced the room, inspecting it confidently.

He turned around, his eyes never leaving her tiny figure, seemingly shocked by her courageous behavior.

“So, this is it, uh?” She said. “ _Lord Vegeta_ … The new Master of the Universe… How does it feel? Does it feel good?” She asked proudly.

He remained silent, and she realized he hadn’t really expected her to take control of the situation and didn’t quite know what to say.

“Are you happy now?”

“I have fulfilled my destiny, woman” he finally replied.

“Bullshit” she said, standing by his bed, arms still crossed, looking him in the eye fearlessly.

“Watch it, woman…” he said menacingly, but the heiress could feel the disconcert in his voice.

“You were not born to be Ruler of the Universe, Vegeta…”

“Really, now? I suppose that brilliant mind of yours will let me know what my purpose in life is… Let me guess… I was born to play happy families with you on Earth. Am I right, little girl?” He asked condescendingly.

She ignored his attack and she replied self-assuredly.

“No. You are a Prince; you were born to reign over your people, not to be some evil intergalactic space lord”.

“My people are right here with me. My men…”

“Bullshit!” She cut him off again. “Those are not _your men_ , Vegeta…”

She walked towards him, standing right in front of him.

“Don’t pretend to tell me about my business, woman...”

She shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m not pretending anything, my dear… I’m telling it how it is. You can take it or leave it, do whatever you want, but these men are not _your_ men, Vegeta.”

She boldly grabbed his hand, making his fingers twitch, and she dragged him towards the side of the bed, near the candlelight. He knew he could easily resist her force, but his curiosity got the best of him and he let her drag him behind her. Once she reached the desired place, she turned towards him, gently grasping his jaw between her hands.

“Let me take a look at you, Vegeta…” she whispered, her gorgeous bright blue eyes knowingly inspecting his black ones. “You look tired…”

He kept quiet, holding her gaze.

“When was the last time you had a good night’s sleep? I bet it was back on Earth…”

“You presume much, woman…” he replied, staring mesmerized at her luscious lips.

She smiled sweetly.

Oh, yeah… It was still there. Whatever _‘it’_ was that had brought them together, it hadn’t disappeared over these past few months. If anything, she’d bet that the attraction was stronger than ever, just waiting for both of them to simply give in to each other. And Bulma knew it wasn’t just a physical attraction, although the sex had always felt incredible. No, it was something else, a greater understanding and mutual respect towards each other that neither of them had ever known before.

“I bet you have to sleep with one eye open…” she kept whispering. “I bet you thought this life would bring you some comfort, but it doesn’t…”

His hands reached her face, softly caressing her rosy cheeks, her skin glowing even in the dark… His lips moved, but the words were not coming out. His confusion was evident, and the earthling decided to keep pushing…

“I know you, Vegeta…” she murmured against his lips.

“Do you?” he replied against hers.

“Mmmm… I do…”

Her lips were close, so close, and she wondered what he would do if she finally kissed him, but he brought her back to reality, once again, with his harsh words.

“You don’t know shit, woman…” he said, his strong hands squeezing her cheeks making her lips pout faintly.

“I know… I know you, Vegeta. I saw you… I saw the video…”

“What video?” He asked in confusion.

“The night you left… You kissed me in my sleep and then…” The Gods help her, she could feel her eyes burning again, but she couldn’t cry, not in front of him. “Then I saw you with Trunks… You whispered something to him and then… You kissed him…”

“Aaaargh!” He roared, brusquely letting go her, squeezing his eyes shut, as if trying to delete the memories. “Shut up! Don’t think you can manipulate me with any of your emotional bullshit!” he yelled, pointing a finger intimidatingly at her.

“Manipulate you? Am I not telling the truth? What’s the matter, _Lord Vegeta_? Can’t you handle the fucking truth?”

“Quiet, woman!” he shouted, pacing the room like a wild animal trapped in a cage.

Bulma, shocked by his furious outburst, sat down on the bed. The unshed tears were still in her eyes, and she was truly exhausted. She’d tried to play his game, but she wondered, for the first time that night, if she could really bring him back from that dark place of denial he was living in. She placed her arms around her, hugging herself, trying to find some comfort in the middle of this incredibly stressful situation.

Both lovers remained silent, the blue haired beauty sitting quietly on the bed, and the Saiyan warrior still pacing the room, running his hands through his wild mane.

“Why did you leave us, Vegeta?” she asked softly. “I just… I know that you care…”

“My destiny… I have to fulfill my destiny…” He kept saying, over and over again, almost talking to himself.

Bulma sighed, shaking her head in defeat

“Vegeta, I… I’m not going to pretend to know how you’re feeling… I know your life hasn’t been easy and…”

“You don’t know shit!” he cut her off. “You don’t know what it’s like when everything is fucking taken away from you every single fucking time!”

A tear fell off Bulma’s cheek.

“You’re right, baby, I don’t, but if you let me, maybe I could…”

“You could what?” He said, brusquely sitting on a large chair by the window. “Are you going to save me, _Bulma_?”

He was going back to his mocking tone, and it was clear as water to Bulma now that he was trying to protect himself from his own vulnerability.

“Vegeta, it’s not my job to save you, and honestly, I think you were already doing a pretty good job yourself. You fought with us, by our side. You reacted protectively when Cell attacked our son…”

“Don’t!” He yelled again. “Don’t even fucking go there, woman!”

“What the fuck, Vegeta?!” she shouted, standing up and walking towards him. She sat down in front of the Prince, who was now sitting on the heavy chair, his hunched shoulders reminding her of their last night together on Earth. She knelt on the floor, caressing his cheek once more.

“There’s nothing shameful about caring for others, Vegeta, especially for your own son…”

“It didn’t work anyway…” he whispered, staring at the floor now.

“What didn’t work?”

“My attack… I… I let our child die… I failed him…”

“No, baby, you didn’t… Mirai Trunks told me all about it before he left. You should have seen him… He was happy, Vegeta! Happy to know that you cared!”

“What do you want from me, Bulma?” he finally asked, still avoiding her gaze.

“I… I just want you back, with us… I just…”

“Why?” He asked again, his dark eyes now piercing hers.

Oh, Dende… He was really going to make her say it…

“Be-Because I love you…”

He hissed.

“Don’t lie to me, woman!”

“W-What?”

He stood up, grabbing her by the shoulders and making her stand in front of him.

“I SAID, DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME!!!”

Bulma was trembling now, utterly confused. Her father’s words repeated themselves over and over again inside her head.

He didn’t believe she could love him.

He didn’t believe anyone could love him.

She’d never met a man more wounded, more severely damaged than the one standing in front of her, furiously panting like an animal that had been abused for so long that he couldn’t discern love even though it was staring at him, right on his face.

“Ve-Vegeta… Please, calm down… I’m not lying to you. Why would I lie? My Gods! I’m here, am I not? Would I have come all the way here, leaving our child alone, if I didn’t love you?”

“YOU LIE, WOMAN! I SHOULD FUCKING KILL YOU FOR PLAYING GAMES WITH ME!!!”

He squeezed his eyes shut again and he let go of her, furiously walking towards the door and opening it violently. The short pink skinned alien stood behind it, guarding the Prince’s chambers, and his face contorted in horror as he witnessed his Lord, all golden hair and teal eyes, standing right in front of him.

“Take the woman back to her room,” he ordered menacingly.

“Y-Yes… Of… Of course my L-Lord!”

“WOMAN!” He yelled. “COME HERE!”

Bulma sloppily walked towards him, she was shaking, wanting to open her mouth and say something to him but unable to do so. She realized it would be better to leave, to allow him to calm down before she approached him again. She reached the door and she walked past him, avoiding his gaze in case she made him angrier. The pink skinned alien started to walk through the corridors and she sheepishly followed behind, still feeling Vegeta’s eyes on her back. Just before they were about to turn around the corner and out of the Saiyan’s sight, the warrior’s voice boomed through the building.

“DODONNE!” He yelled.

It must have been the alien’s name, for he quickly turned around to face his Master once again.

“Y-Yes, my Lord?”

“MAKE SURE SHE DOESN’T LEAVE HER ROOM AND GUARD HER WITH YOUR LIFE. IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HER, I’LL KILL EVERY SINGLE FUCKING MAN ON THIS FILTHY PLANET!”

“Of… Of course, my Lord!” The pink alien said, nervously nodding.

As the confused, crying woman slowly walked back to her room, she allowed a small smile to grace her lips as she finally realized something.

He’d given orders to keep her safe, which could only mean one thing.

He still cared for her.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another extremely hard chapter to write...
> 
> Their first encounter was intense!
> 
> Don't worry, there's still more to come...


	15. An Old Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma talks to an old friend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I'm back!
> 
> I know I haven't updated for a while and I'm sorry, but as some of you may already know, I've been busy participating in the Vegebul Smutfest.
> 
> I wanted to put this story on hold until I was done with my prompts, but I missed working on it and I've also been receiving a few messages, both here and in my Tumblr (sarahw-world) about any future updates, so here's a little chapter for you all...
> 
> Thanks for your patience!

Bulma opened her eyes gradually, rapidly covering her face with her hands as the morning sunrays bothered her. She lazily sat on the bed, blinking sluggishly, her head heavy and her eyes swollen from crying.

Three days.

It had been three days since her first encounter with Vegeta, and she hadn’t been allowed to leave her bedroom from that moment. After she’d heard the Prince give orders to keep her protected and safe at all times, a spark of hope had awoken inside of her, making her believe that he truly cared for her, but now she wasn’t so sure anymore…

What if he simply wanted to get rid of her and he didn’t quite know how to do it without having to kill her?

The heiress looked around her in despair. She felt like a prisoner, a prisoner trapped in a beautiful golden cage, but a prisoner after all. She’d been brought fresh food and water daily, three times a day, and she always left it untouched, preferring to eat and drink from the supplies she’d encapsulated back on Earth.

The woman briefly debated whether she should get up and take a shower or simply stay in bed. Finally, she exhaled in frustration and she opted for the second option, laying down on the bed, her blue eyes staring at the ceiling. She soon realized she was still clutching a tiny red capsule in her right hand. That little object had been the only thing that still kept her going…

She thought of Yamcha and Krillin, and how she hadn’t heard from them ever since they’d said their goodbyes the first day they’d arrived on the planet. Would they be OK? What about Vegeta? Their last conversation had been repeating itself inside her head obsessively over and over again during these past three days. He’d been cruel to her, but she’d caught glimpses of humanity in him, and she knew that he’d simply been trying to drive her away; maybe he even believed she’d be happier without him.

Bulma felt the tears come back again.

What a mess this whole trip had turned out to be! If only she’d been able to deal with the Saiyan warrior back on Earth, perhaps things would have been less complicated. Here, in this frozen palace, she felt like an outsider, completely out of her element, and she knew that Vegeta didn’t belong in this place either.

She covered her eyes with one of her arms, letting the tears fall again, ashamed of her own weakness even though no one could see her cry…

_“Bulma?”_

Her breath hitched and she uncovered her eyes, quickly sitting up as if she’d been hit by a thunderbolt.

_“Hey! Bulma! Can you hear me?”_

Holy crap! Could she hear voices now? Was she finally going insane? And yet, she knew that voice…

 _“It’s me! Goku!”_ The masculine voice repeated.

“Go-Goku?” The woman asked in shock.

 _“Yes! I’m so glad you can hear me!”_ He cheerfully said.

“Dende…” Bulma whispered, almost to herself. “Is… Is that really you? How…?”

_“King Kai! It’s thanks to him that I’m talking to you!”_

The woman just sat there on the bed, clutching her sheets.

“Unbelievable…” She murmured.

_“Yeah… Anyway, I was talking to Gohan, you know, because King Kai lets me do that sometimes, and he told me about your trip. Kai tells me things aren’t going too well right now… Are… Are you alright, Bulma?”_

“Oh, Goku…”

The heiress could barely talk, too overwhelmed from hearing her best friend’s voice. It was surreal, wasn’t it? And yet, there was something so comforting about him, perhaps due to the fact that the man she’d known for so many years now, and who she thought of almost as a baby brother, had always managed to keep that spark of innocence about him alive, and his cheerful spirit was certainly contagious.

“I’m fine, I guess… I just… You know… Vegeta is not being very easy to deal with right now…” She finally replied.

_“I see… Well, he’s really something, uh? But don’t worry; I just wanted to talk to you because Kai was telling me that you’d been alone for a few days… Just hang in there, Bulma. I know you can do it! I know you can bring him back to Earth with you, you know?”_

He laughed. A friendly, honest to God laugh, and Bulma couldn’t help but smile a little.

“You damn Saiyans are too much trouble, did you know that?” She playfully said, half joking half serious as she was suddenly reminded of Goku’s wife, pregnant with a second child that would be born without a father by his side.

 _“Yeah… I guess…”_ He laughed again, and she could imagine him scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment like he always used to.

_“I know he’s not an easy man, but you’re even more stubborn than he is!”_

“Hey!” She said, not knowing whether to take that as a compliment or an offence.

He giggled once more.

_“Awe, Bulma… Don’t take it like that! You know what I mean… You know? I was just thinking about when Mirai Trunks told me about you two getting together, and even though I was kind of surprised at first, I soon realized that it made sense… You two are meant to be together, you’ll see! I…”_

There was a pause.

“Goku? A-Are you still there?” Bulma asked worriedly.

_“I gotta go, B.! They’re coming for you! Good luck!”_

“W-What? Who?”

Silence.

“Who’s coming? Goku?” The blue haired woman frantically asked.

He was gone.

“What the hell?” She mumbled in confusion.

All of a sudden, a loud knock at the door startled her.

“Bulma? Are you in there?”

 _‘No way’_ Bulma thought, quickly identifying that voice.

“Yamcha?”

“Yes! It’s me! Well, uh, it’s us, actually! Open the door, B.!” He replied with noticeable joy in his voice.

With a quick jump, Bulma literally run to the door, opening it wide open and discovering her friends waiting for her in the luxurious hallway. Without a second thought, she threw herself into her ex-boyfriend’s arms, holding him tightly.

“Oh, Gods! Yamcha!” she said against his neck, experiencing a relief she hadn’t felt for a long time. The man held her back, glad to see that she was alright, and softly caressing her blue tresses. They remained that way for a moment until they heard Krillin clear his throat awkwardly.

“Guys, I don’t think you should do this in here, you know?” He whispered cautiously.

Bulma turned towards him, still holding Yamcha, she realized her bald friend was subtly pointing to his side and, when Bulma looked around her, she noticed Dodonne, the pink warrior, observing the scene from afar with clear interest, scowling fiercely.

“Sure. Guys, let’s go inside my room” the heiress whispered back, letting go of Yamcha’s neck.

The three friends entered Bulma’s bedroom, closing the door behind them. She guided them to the corner, by the large window, where there was a small coffee table and four large chairs. They all sat down as the two men looked around them with curiosity.

“Wow, Bulma! This room is amazing! It’s at least five times larger than the one they’ve given us!” Krillin finally said in awe.

“Really?” The scientist replied disinterestedly. To be honest, after having spent three days literally locked up inside the room, she’d grown to hate it with a vengeance. “It’s alright, I guess…” she sighed melancholically.

“How have you been doing? Did you talk to Vegeta?” Yamcha asked.

“Yeah, I did…”

“And?”

“It was… You know… It was intense, guys…” Bulma said almost shyly, staring at the floor.

“It didn’t go well, uh?” Krillin said.

“Not really… I mean, it’s like… It’s like he was trying to be an asshole to me…”

Yamcha chuckled before he said “He was an asshole? So basically, he’s just being himself, right?”

Bulma shook her head dejectedly.

“Not at all… He’s never really been that way with me, at least not when it’s just the two of us…”

There was a silence in the room, and it was evident that the men didn’t exactly feel comfortable discussing Bulma’s relationship with the Saiyan Prince which, as usual, remained a mystery to them.

“Anyway…” The heiress continued, trying to move past the awkwardness surrounding her. “How did you two manage to get out of your rooms? Did they keep you locked up as well all this time?”    

“Room” Krillin corrected her.

“What?”

“It’s room, not rooms; they’ve kept us together in the same place. It was OK I guess, but nothing like yours though… I see Vegeta has really given you special treatment. That’s a good sign, right?” The bald man said, sensing his friend’s depressed state and attempting to cheer her up.

“I suppose... Ugh! This whole thing is so frustrating!”

Yamcha held her hand, squeezing gently.

“It’s gonna be fine Bulma, we saw Vegeta this morning and he was actually quite nice to us. Well, nice for him, if you know what I mean…”

“You saw him this morning?” Bulma asked in shock. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? What did he say?”

She was panicky now, and Yamcha tried to calm her down a bit.

“He came to see us today, it was really early, just before dawn… Right, Krillin?”

“Yep. He knocked at our door… He was quite polite, like Yamcha said… Anyway, he said that from now on we’re free to walk around, but he also said we wouldn’t be allowed to leave the planet… Not without you, anyway…”

“D-Did he suggest that we should leave?”

“No, no! Nothing like that! I guess he just didn’t want us to take off without you _if_ we chose to leave…”

“We’re not going anywhere, B., so don’t worry about it, OK?” Yamcha said.

“Right… Did… Did he say something else? Anything?”

“Mmm… Let me think…” Krillin replied, trying to fully recall the conversation with the Saiyan warrior. “Not much else, really… We asked him if he’d talked to you, and he said we should mind our own damn business…” He snickered. “Yeah… I believe those were his exact words… But he didn’t mention your encounter at all…”

“He also asked if you’d fully repaired the ship he’d left for you back on that cold planet we visited before we got here…” The scarred faced man said. “We told him we thought you had, because you’d given it to Krillin in case something happened to the one we were travelling in, and then he asked for it.”

“He what?! Did you give it to him?!”

“Uh… Yes?” Yamcha said, rapidly realizing they were in trouble. He knew that tone in Bulma’s voice all too well…

“What the hell, Yamcha? So, you just gave him the ship? Just like that? What if he leaves?” The heiress asked angrily.

“Bulma, I’m sure the guy has a million ships at his disposal. How do you think he got here? Don’t you think if he wanted to leave he would have left already?”

“I don’t think that’s why he wanted it” Krillin said, joining the conversation again.

“Then, why? What…?” The woman seemed puzzled now.

“The Gravity Room” Yamcha continued. “I think he wanted to use it to be able to train. We’ve been tracking his ki ever since. It looks like he’s still on the planet, but far away from here…”

Bulma didn’t like the sound of that.

Not one bit.

“Dende! I need to see him!” She said, standing up decisively and walking towards her private bathroom. “I’m going to take a shower and then you guys will fly me wherever he is. I have to talk to him”.

“B-Bulma…” Yamcha doubtfully said. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean… You know what he’s like when he’s training! He’ll probably get angry if we…”

“He couldn’t possibly get any angrier than he was the last time I saw him!” she said, abruptly turning to her friends. “You should have seen him, guys… He was… He’s not himself, alright?”

“I don’t know… I’m with Yamcha on this one…” Krillin said timidly.

“Fine! Then I’ll go find him myself. I’m assuming he’s also given me permission to leave this fucking room too, right?”

“Uh… Yeah… That’s why we came… But he also warned us to remain by your side at all times. I got the feeling he didn’t trust the guys that live with him on this planet… Bulma…”

“Whatever…” The blue haired woman mumbled as she entered the bathroom and closed the door.

The two men stared at each other resignedly.

“You know we don’t have a choice, right?” Krillin said.

“Oh, believe me, I know… I know what she’s like when she gets like this. Once that woman makes a decision, there’s no stopping her…” He replied, shaking his head.

“Boy… Those two were really made for each other, uh?” The bald man smiled a little. “I remember when I first saw her with the baby, the day the androids showed up... Man! I couldn’t fucking believe it! But I guess it makes sense now… I wonder what the deal with Vegeta is anyway…”

“I don’t know, pal… I get the feeling it has to do with Gohan being the one who beat Cell and with Goku dying. I guess he thought there was nothing else for him on Earth and he just decided to leave…”

“You think he doesn’t care about Bulma and the kid?” Krillin asked in shock. “I mean, we saw what happened when Cell attacked Mirai Trunks. He lost it! And Bulma… Well, she wouldn’t even be alive if he didn’t give a shit, right?”

Yamcha remained quiet for a while, his mind running in a million different directions. He had to admit he’d never seen Bulma feel for him the way she felt for the Saiyan Prince, not even when they were two young silly teenagers in love…

Whatever those two had going, it run deep, that much was for sure. At first, he’d thought perhaps his ex had just been trying to play house with Vegeta, so that the boy could grow up with a father, unlike that poor kid from the future. But back on Earth, when she’d told him that she loved the warrior, he’d finally been forced to accept the truth, knowing full well that the scientist never messed around with the L word, and now here they were, in the middle of space, inside the creepiest palace he’d seen in his entire life.

“I’m sure he cares on some level… I doubt Bulma would have come all the way here because of some stupid fantasy…” He finally replied in a low voice. “Let’s just take her with him and stay nearby in case anything goes wrong”.

“Yeah…” Krillin snorted. “Like we’d actually be able to do something if Vegeta loses his shit…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know… Don’t remind me… You think it’s easy for me to know I’m not strong enough to protect my best friend?”

Yamcha closed his eyes, laying his head back on the cushy chair and crossing his hands over his belly.

“Let’s just stay cool and hope for the best…” He mumbled, listening to the almost soothing sounds of the running water behind the closed door.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know... It's a little chapter... But the next one will be a big one...
> 
> In the next chapter, Vegeta and Bulma will have a second encounter and we'll get a major glimpse into Vegeta's thoughts...
> 
> Stay tuned!


	16. A Single Bed For Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta reflects on Bulma and his actions towards her just hours before their second encounter takes place...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, I took a bit longer with this chapter, but there's a LOT going on and I wanted to fully develop it.
> 
> I hope you like it and thanks for your patience!

He could feel his flesh burning, blood pouring through his leg’s fresh wound while the old one, on his left ribs, throbbed and stung like fire. Vegeta knelt on the floor of the Gravity Room on all fours, the heavy pressure mercilessly attacking his body as he panted heavily.

He was furious.

Furious with the woman.

Furious with himself.

The past three days had been pure torture and had confirmed to him what he’d already suspected all along: he’d bonded with Bulma and, very possibly, with their child.

When he’d reluctantly decided to abandon the Earth, his plan had seemed simple enough, and the execution had been a lot smoother than he’d anticipated. The Universe had been in chaos ever since the death of Frieza and his father King Cold, and it appeared that people were almost begging for that void of power to be filled.

So, he’d done it, so easily that the very thought of it frightened him.

The Prince had travelled directly to Planet Z365, where he’d found a small group of the bastard’s old troops unofficially inhabiting the place. He knew most of them, and the men certainly knew him, and since he was clearly the strongest of them all, the warriors had followed him and pledged allegiance to him almost immediately and without trouble.

Sure, there’d been moments of insubordination here and there, but nothing that couldn’t be solved with an effective threat or a dominant act of punishment. In fact, he’d only had to kill two of the members of his new army ever since he’d taken control.

The first thing he’d chosen to do was to kill all the assholes that used to work for Frieza and which the Saiyan knew for sure were incapable of redemption. A few of them had even attacked and ridiculed him on a personal level when he was still under his former overlord’s rule, and now that the filthy lizard wasn’t there to protect them anymore, he’d taken great pleasure in settling some old scores.

Or so he’d thought.

The truth was he didn’t enjoy power and mayhem as much as he used to anymore, and this new situation unnerved him.

He should have been happy.

And yet, he wasn’t.

All of his life, he’d dreamed with the day of Frieza’s demise, the day when he’d finally bring him down and rule in his place…

Sure, things hadn’t happened the way he’d envisioned them, since it had been Goku who had ascended to Super Saiyan first, stealing the moment of glory from him and, later on, his own son from the future had finished the job.

Still, the end result had ended up favoring him now that his nemesis was dead and the only being stronger than him was an eleven-year old brat with no thirst for power, whose mother was slowly but surely going to throw his fighting potential to waste anyway due to her obsession with the pursuit of pure intellectual knowledge.

So, all in all, the final result had turned out to be to his advantage, and he knew there were no real threats to his lifetime dream of universal domination, and yet…

He was miserable.

He’d been miserable ever since he’d left the blue planet.

Ever since he’d left Bulma and their son…

In all honesty, he’d missed her already even as he was still holding her in his arms with the certainty that it would be the last time he’d ever feel the warmth of her body and spirit close to him, and he’d missed Trunks even as he’d whispered a Saiyan prayer for protection in his ear before he kissed him goodbye.

_His mother’s prayer…_

It hurt.

It actually physically hurt, almost as much as he’d suffered when his mother had died and he’d been handed over to Frieza shortly after that by his father the King, and he knew without a doubt that it was due to the Saiyan bond the members of the Royal Family of Vegetasei had always shared, for only the Prince should be carried full term so that the full bond would be established and the Queen could prove her worth if she managed to survive the brutal delivery.

His mother had done it.

And Bulma had done it too.

The woman hadn’t even realized the danger she’d put herself and their child in by choosing to continue with her pregnancy, carrying their baby full term, not that he’d been around to warn her anyway. By the time he’d finally returned to Earth and found her heavily pregnant, she’d refused to induce the boy’s childbirth any sooner than it was supposed to be. Vegeta knew she could have died due to his boy’s unusually high power level, and yet, his woman had brought the purple haired Prince to this world and had lived to tell the tale, making the Saiyan feel fiercely proud of the beautiful heiress…

The further his ship had gone into space, the greater the sense of loss and despair had become, and his misery had been such that his appetite had decreased and he’d even lost the drive to train as much as he used to, in spite of having the Gravity Room all to himself and no woman berating him for his carelessly ruthless training regime.

He’d even missed her reprimands.

The Prince felt like a fool, like a damn weak fool, and he’d forced his mind to forget about Bulma and Trunks, telling himself over and over again that they’d both be better off without his presence in their lives anyway. After all, what could he possibly have to offer?

He had nothing.

No race, no possessions of any kind, and thanks to the Cell Games fiasco, he didn’t even have his pride anymore. Before the battle with Dr. Gero’s horrid creatures, he’d believed that perhaps he could make up for his lack of wealth and the sentimentality the scientist was so fond of by becoming the strongest warrior, at least offering her, their son and their home planet, his strength and protection in the future.

He hadn’t even been able to achieve that.

During the week he’d spent by himself on Earth after Mirai Trunks’ departure, he’d realized that he wasn’t really needed in his child’s life. Especially, after having seen the fine job his mate had done all by herself in Mirai’s timeline.

More than fine.

In fact, if Vegeta was brutally honest with himself, he could admit that the teenager was better than him in almost every way…

Sure, he’d possessed an evident lack of technique in combat, no doubt a consequence of his youth and the fact that he’d been trained by the son of a third-class warrior that hadn’t even trained his child himself most of the time anyway, leaving the task to the Namekian that had become like a second father to his enemy’s son. The Prince knew that the strongest Saiyans, especially those of the elite classes, always benefited from being trained by their own parents, who had the responsibility of instructing their children in the arts of war, passing down all of their knowledge from one generation to the next, quickly learning to identify their children’s strengths and weaknesses, and correcting them efficiently.

Vegeta himself had witnessed his son’s enormous progress during the time they’d both spent together in ‘The Room Of Spirit And Time’, and even though he’d been tough and sometimes downright rude towards the boy, something he now regretted in retrospect, he’d tried to offer him his advice and experience.

The younger Prince had turned out to be highly skilled in combat, making his father insanely proud in the end, and Vegeta had said his goodbyes to the older version of his son with the certainty that he’d be more than capable of destroying those fucking machines that had terrorized him and his mother during his entire lifetime.

But even though he wanted to attribute the boy’s talents simply and purely to his Saiyan heritage and Royal blood, he knew he couldn’t.

The boy was all Bulma.

His intelligence, politeness, sense of compassion, purity and openness of heart… 

The woman had done an excellent job raising their son on her own and under terribly adverse circumstances. _Hell!_ Mirai Trunks was even humble, something his cocky and proud parents had never been, which made Vegeta assume that the future had indeed been hard on his mate, and the hardships had probably forced her to mature at top speed.

As the warrior knelt on the floor, bleeding, panting and sweating profusely under the excruciating gravity forces, he couldn’t help the guilt that coursed through his broken body at the thought that, not only had he failed his Bulma in another lifetime, but he would surely fail her in this one too, if he hadn’t already.

As tempting as the thought of going back to Earth with the heiress was, the inevitability that things would never work out between them anyway lingered heavily on his mind.

After all, why would life bring him happiness all of a sudden when it never had before?

And what the fuck had he ever done to deserve it anyway?

He was a bastard from Hell, and he had the certainty that he’d end up losing the woman one way or another eventually. Either she’d wake the fuck up and leave him as soon as her infatuation with him was over and she saw him for the worthless asshole he really was, or his cosmic joke of a life would find a way to take her and the child away from him, that’s if he didn’t manage to fuck things up first all on his own.

_No._

_He couldn’t go through with it._

_He had to break the bond one way or another…_

 

And _that_ was his last conscious thought before darkness overtook him…

 

 

**************************************************

 

 

Yamcha accelerated his pace in an effort to catch up with Bulma.

The damn woman was insane, that much he knew…

She’d been so pissed off after Krillin and him had tried to convince her not to visit Vegeta while he was training in the Gravity Room that, after she’d finished her shower, she’d barged into the enormous bedroom and ordered the two men to wait outside until she got dressed, only to leave the room minutes later, not even bothering to acknowledge them, quickly walking through the palace’s lavish hallways until she’d reached the exit. When the scarred faced warrior had offered to fly her to the Prince’s location, she’d angrily scowled and rejected his offer, claiming that she was sick of being carried everywhere like a little girl and she’d be following them in her own vehicle.

Now, as Yamcha followed Bulma who was, at the same time, following Krillin’s lead, he couldn’t help but shake his head, both in frustration and admiration, and he found himself agreeing with Krillin when the bald man had said that the Saiyan and his ex-girlfriend were truly made for each other.

The heiress was recklessly driving a flying device very similar to a motorbike, and the man’s view right in front of him was really something else: she’d chosen to wear indecently tiny short jeans, a baby blue tank top that showed off her toned midriff and a really strange blue pendant hanging around her neck. He had to admit that, if it weren’t because he’d been by her side throughout her pregnancy, he’d find it hard to believe the stunning woman had ever given birth to a child. A deep dark part of him couldn’t help the shameful tinge of jealousy at the thought that Bulma might have chosen her attire in an effort to further seduce her mate.

_‘Lucky bastard…’_

What the former desert bandit didn’t know was that seduction was not at the top of the list in the scientist’s priorities at the moment.

As she drove her latest invention, Bulma’s thoughts were filled with worry, speculating over and over again with the possible scenarios she might encounter once they reached their destination.

She had a bad feeling about this.

_A really bad feeling…_

She didn’t know if it was due to the infamous bond Piccolo had talked about or simply because she knew the Saiyan almost better than he knew himself, and she feared that none of the scenarios playing in her head were very optimistic ones. Bulma was pretty sure that her mate would be subjecting himself to a brutal training session right about now, but she dreaded the motives behind his actions…

The best case scenario would be that his Saiyan anatomy would crave the challenge that her machine provided for him, and given that he hadn’t had access to it for a while, there was a good chance that he might simply overdo it as usual.

The second possibility frightened her to death, especially as she evoked her last conversation with the Prince and recalled how angry and troubled he’d seemed to be. Bulma feared Vegeta would be mercilessly punishing himself, and the image of the look of guilt and shame on his face when he’d admitted to letting their son die in combat was haunting her…

“There it is!” Krillin finally yelled, bringing both Bulma and Yamcha out of their reverie at once.

Bulma smiled nervously.

Yes, that was her creation, proudly standing in the middle of the red dessert. As she looked around her, she noticed her man had chosen a really isolated place to train, and she bit her lip in worry, now truly afraid of what they might encounter.

She descended slowly, gracefully landing the vehicle on the arid land. She got off, quickly encapsulating it, and without saying a single word to her friends, she walked speedily towards the ship.

“Shit!” She yelled.

“What is it, B.?” Yamcha asked as he hurried to her side.

“The windows are closed! Damn it!”

She run to the heavy metallic door and frantically banged on it.

“Vegeta!”

Silence.

“Vegeta! Open the door!” She shouted again, only to be faced by more unsettling muteness.

Bulma looked around her, and after making sure none of Vegeta’s men were in sight, she reached for the thin red belt full of tiny capsules around her jeans’ waist and searched for the one that contained her tool box. She opened it and knelt down, quickly finding a small tablet inside.

Krillin and Yamcha watched in awe as the scientist efficiently connected the little device to the controls near the gate and started to furiously type secret codes into it.

“Um… Bulma?” Krillin finally asked. “What are you doing?”

“Ugh… What do you think?” The heiress replied in exasperation, not even bothering looking at him as she tried to hack the security system of the machine.

“Vegeta! I’m coming in, alright?!” She yelled again.

“Wait, are you actually going to enter that place?” Yamcha asked in a voice full of concern.

“Duh! Why the fuck do you think we’re here for?”

The computer beeped.

“Ugh! Seriously?” The woman yelled, completely engrossed in her activities.

“Bulma… Please… You can’t do that! What if the gravity simulator is on? It’ll crush you!” Her ex-lover begged.

“Really, Yamcha? You think I’m an idiot? I’m going to disconnect it before I open it!”

“Are… Are you sure about that?”

“Yes! I’m sure, dammit!”

Both men remained silent, knowing that talking to the heiress when she was in that state would only make things worse, plus, when it came to science, there was no one better than Bulma…

There were three beeps and a buzz, and the slight vibration of the ship stopped completely, letting the three friends know that the gravity was finally switched off.

“Alright baby… One little thing here…” Bulma mumbled, as if she were talking to the machine, still typing anxiously.

There was another beep, a really loud one this time, and the heavy gate made a sharp sound.

“Yes!” The scientist yelled triumphantly.

She turned to her friends and she winked playfully.

“I told yah… I’m Bulma fucking Briefs after all…” She said cockily, making the two men roll their eyes.

“Yeah, yeah…” Yamcha replied. “So… Do you want us to go inside with you?” He gingerly asked.

“Um… I’m not sure… Let me check on him…”

Bulma stood up, wiping off her now dusty knees. She encapsulated her tool box and put it back inside her belt while she walked to the door.

“You guys just… Just wait here, okay?”

Both men nodded.

“Vegeta?” She asked once more, trying to give the Prince a chance to reply before she invaded his privacy. When no one answered, the blue haired woman shyly opened the door.

The inside of the Gravity Room was hot and humid, no doubt a combination of the planet’s natural tropical weather and the result of Vegeta’s hardcore training.

It felt like a sauna.

_It was unbearable._

Bulma walked carefully to her right, blindly feeling her way along the metallic wall in search of the light switch until she finally found it. She turned on the lights and blinked a few times, trying to get used to bright light once again. When she finally did, she looked around and she gasped in horror.

“Vegeta?! Oh, Gods! Vegeta!!!”

She run towards the center of the chamber where her mate laid on the floor unconscious in the middle of a puddle of blood. When she finally reached him, she knelt beside him, automatically pressing her fingers against his neck in search of his pulse.

She exhaled in relief when she realized the Saiyan’s heart was still beating strongly.

“Guys!!! Please!!!” Bulma yelled, her blue eyes now full of fearful tears.

Yamcha and Krillin quickly entered the ship and their eyes widened at the horrifying sight in front of them: their friend was by the Prince’s side, softly caressing his sweaty face and hair with trembling delicate hands, whispering comforting words to his ear.

“Vegeta… Everything’s gonna be fine… You’re alright… You’re alright… You’ll see…” She kept murmuring over and over again, almost as if trying to convince herself more than the unconscious warrior.

“Bulma…” Yamcha whispered. “Is… Is he okay?”

The heiress shook her head frantically, her petite body shaking in shock.

“I don’t… I don’t know… His… His heart is still beating…”

Both men walked towards her, kneeling by Vegeta’s side.

“Help me! Please!” Bulma begged, clumsily wiping off her tears with the back of her hands. She knew there was no time for sentimentality; she needed her cool analytical mind back once again.

“Alright… Okay… Let me… Let me take a look at him… Help me move him; he must have a wound somewhere…”

Krillin and Yamcha carefully turned the compact but heavy body of the Saiyan Prince around, gasping at the amount of blood covering the frontal side of his body.

“Holy shit…” The bald man murmured.

Bulma was horrified. It didn’t matter how many times she’d seen her mate injured, it always made a strong impression on her seeing him in this condition, and she feared she’d been right from the start: the man had been punishing himself.

“Oh, Dende…” She whispered. “Okay… Let me… Let me check…”

She cautiously run her hands across the Prince’s body, inspecting him with medical eyes. She quickly discovered that the main source of the bleeding was a large cut that run through the inner side of Vegeta’s muscular thigh. It looked like one of the burns he’d gotten on a few occasions from the training bots. As she looked around, she saw one of her bots completely destroyed, laying on the corner. It must have been the only one the warrior had left, and at times like these, she regretted ever having built her mate those damn training robots.

Other than that, the Saiyan seemed to be alright, although she noticed his torso had been wrapped up in some type of bandage, and she suspected there’d be another wound underneath that she’d have to take a look at.

“Alright, guys… I think he’s gonna be okay… I’m going to need your help though. Do you think you could carry him to the living area? There’s a little bed in there and it will be easier for me to clean up this mess…”

“Sure thing…” Krillin quickly replied. “Alright, Yamcha… I’ll grab his legs and you get his back”.

“Be careful with his leg! That’s where the wound is!” Bulma yelled in worry while she closely followed the two men downstairs, waiting patiently until they laid her man on the single bed.

She couldn’t help but feel a sudden sense of déjà vu about the whole scene in front of her, and she remembered the countless times she’d dealt with the Prince’s lesions back on Earth, starting with the big explosion in the GR. The last time she’d seen him like this, she’d been heavily pregnant with Trunks and Vegeta had vehemently refused her help, but stubborn as she was she’d helped him anyway. Shortly after that, the Saiyan had disappeared a few days before she’d given birth to their son, and she’d barely seen him again until the battle with the androids.

And now, here she was about to take care of her mate again, just like the old times.

In all honesty, she didn’t even know if he was her mate anymore…

“Do you need any more help, B.?” Yamcha eagerly asked, bringing her back to reality.

She shook her head.

“No, thanks Yamcha… I think I can take it from here… Let me walk you out so I can lock the door” she said, already walking upstairs to the main floor, silently ordering her male friends to leave.

“Bulma, are you sure about this? Do you wanna be alone with the guy?” Krillin asked, evidently concerned about this new situation. It was clear to him that Vegeta was behaving in a self-destructive, reckless manner.

“It’s fine, guys… Really, he’s not going to hurt me…”

“If you say so…” Yamcha replied unconvinced. “Why do you want to lock the door, anyway?”

“I doubt Vegeta will want any of his men to see him like this, plus it’d be dangerous for us if he loses their respect. It’s probably because of him that we’re still alive anyway…” Bulma explained.

The scarred faced man shook his head, still doubtful, but he left anyway.

“Just yell if you need anything, alright?”

“Sure… Uh… Yamcha?” She asked as her ex-boyfriend turned around.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said with honesty in her eyes, holding his hand and squeezing it gently.

The man smiled.

“No problem... Good luck with the crazy Saiyan!” He said jokingly, making the woman giggle despite her state of concern.

“Thanks! I appreciate that…” She replied with mockery. “I’ll be out in a bit…”

Bulma closed the door, firmly locking it from the inside, and she walked to the central console of the room, switching on the cooling system. This way the ship’s temperature would decrease a bit and it’d be easier for Vegeta to get some much needed rest. She walked downstairs and she entered the tiny bedroom, locking that door as well, just in case. She stood by the bed, still disturbed by the sight of the bloody Saiyan lying unconscious in front of her.

“Alright, Bulma…” She whispered. “Let’s get to work…”

She walked into the small bathroom and, realizing her hands were now smeared with dry blood, she washed them thoroughly with hot water. When she was done, she knelt on the floor, opening the little white cabinet that usually contained the medical supplies she’d always provided her mate with.

The heiress smiled.

“Perfect…” She mumbled when she found a black and white box of capsules that was almost full. She grabbed the first one and opened it, revealing a large white case with a red cross painted on it.

She recognized its contents immediately, since she’d been the one that had packed this one for Vegeta before he’d left on one of his countless training trips into space. Once Bulma had finally understood the true nature of the Saiyan’s instincts, she’d given up on attempting to stop him from leaving, so she’d decided that at the very least, she’d try to make sure the warrior had a large amount of food and medical supplies encapsulated inside the ship.

The scientist grabbed a bottle of disinfectant, some cotton, suture thread, a needle, a pair of surgical scissors and a clean cotton cloth. She also filled a small plastic washbowl she’d found under the sink with warm water and carefully carried everything back to the bedroom.

Bulma sat on the small bed, placing the bucket and the cloth on a chair nearby, and with the help of the small scissors, she proceeded to cut the bloody shorts the Prince was wearing in order to do her job more efficiently, and she realized that, as usual, her mate wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Under different circumstances, the sight of that perfect muscular body completely naked would have turned her on, but now, her thoughts were solely focused on healing the warrior as best as she could.

She soaked and wrung the cotton cloth and, slowly and delicately, started to clean up Vegeta’s form, gradually revealing his delicious bronzed skin underneath all the dried-up blood. When she finally reached the horrible wound on his thigh, she put extra care in trying not to touch it too much, and as she observed his reactions, she saw him flinch in pain even in his unconsciousness.

This wouldn’t do.

Bulma run to the bathroom and walked back into the room carrying an empty syringe and a little vial with her. She filled it up and just as she was about to inject her mate, a thick hand wrapped itself around her frail wrist, effectively stopping her.

She gasped in shock when she realized the Saiyan had awakened.

“Ve-Vegeta?” She shyly whispered.

“Woman…” He murmured in a raspy voice. “What is that?”

The heiress quickly noticed he was suspiciously looking at the syringe in her hand.

“This? It’s… It’s an anesthetic, to help you with the pain…”

He grunted.

“I don’t need it…” He replied angrily.

“I know you don’t need it, tough guy… But it would still make me feel better… May I?” She asked with supplicant eyes.  

_Damn that woman!_

He could deny her nothing when she was looking at him with those large blue puppy eyes…

He reluctantly let go of her hand, closing his eyes and resting his head on the pillow once again.

“Do as you wish, silly woman…” He mumbled.

Bulma smiled happily.

 _Oh, yes_ , this was just like the good old times, when she’d visit his room late at night and basically obligate him to accept her help, and even though he rejected her at first, he always caved in. Deep down, Bulma had the feeling the guy actually enjoyed it, after all, had he ever truly had someone taking care of his broken body before they’d found each other?

 _‘Probably not’_ , she thought sadly…

But things were different now.

Now he had her.

She gently injected him with the anesthetic, waiting a couple of minutes for it to take full effect, and then she proceeded to stitch the ugly gush, marveling at the same time at how resilient his skin was. A wound like this on a human being would take weeks to cicatrize, but Saiyans were truly remarkable, and the heiress knew he’d be able to heal in a matter of days.

When she was done, she applied some antiseptic on it to prevent an infection and she covered his now perfectly clean lower body with a white bed sheet, not wanting to make the Prince feel uncomfortable by being completely exposed to her.

Unbeknownst to Bulma, Vegeta had silently been witnessing the whole scene through heavy lidded eyes, admiring her beauty and skills and, at the same time, absolutely stunned by her actions.  

He’d treated her like shit the last time they’d talked.

He’d purposefully offended her, asking her if she was here looking for wealth or power, knowing full well that his woman had never held such ambitions. He’d insulted her and the boy, calling them a wench and a half-breed, and the harsh words made him internally cringe at himself.

_What the fuck had he been thinking?_

Neither the woman nor his son deserved that kind of treatment.

But he had to do it, didn’t he?

He had to try to push her away, to make her hate him, fear him, despise him…

And yet, here she was, her delicate features frowned in concern as she examined and cleaned his abused body, kindly stitching his burned skin and even injecting him with that blasted painkiller which, by the way, had actually brought him some relief.

She was taking care of him, taking the pain away, and he didn’t understand why.

And the most unbelievable thing was…

_She’d told him that she loved him._

Bulma, _his Bulma_ , had told him that she wanted him to go back home with her and their child, simply because she loved him.

_Could that actually be true?_

He’d been wondering about her true intentions ever since his failed video-call to Earth during his stay in the frozen planet. The agony of their separation had been such that, like the weak fool he knew himself to be, he’d caved in and he’d actually called her laboratory, hoping she would be there, silently praying that she’d be asleep, as she usually was in the late hours of the night, her stunning face resting on the cold table and baby Trunks by her side in his crib.

He couldn’t imagine how hard it must have been for her to leave their son back in her home planet. Vegeta knew full well how much she loved the brat, always carrying him with her everywhere she went, like some golden child, like the most precious thing to her, as if the boy wasn’t the son of a vicious killer…

A part of him wanted to berate her for coddling the baby, fearing that she’d make him soft, and yet, he was secretly pleased that his mate had given him a son and she’d fallen in love with someone they’d conceived together.

 _Could she actually love him, then_?

And if that was the case, _why did she_?

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t realize the woman was now taking care of his upper body, and was carefully cutting his dirty old bandages with her surgical scissors. She was so close to him that he could feel her breath on his chest and her sweet fragrance enveloping his senses…

“Oh my Gods, Vegeta!” She gasped as she discovered what laid underneath the bandages.

It was horrifying.

The flesh that covered the left upper side of his torso was bruised and swollen, looking like he had, at the very least, two or three fractured ribs. There was a large wound, poorly stitched across the inflamed flesh that looked like a cut, a deep one, as if he’d been stabbed with some kind of blade.

Vegeta felt his chest constrict at the sight of the woman’s trembling lips and shimmering eyes, and he prayed to the Gods that she wouldn’t start crying.

_He couldn’t stand it when she cried…_

“It’s nothing, woman…” He whispered, trying to reassure her.

“What… What do you mean _‘it’s nothing’_? What happened?!” She asked in horror.

“That’s none of your concern…”

“Like hell it isn’t! How long have you had this for?”

He closed his tired eyes and shrugged.

“I don’t know… A couple of weeks, maybe…” He finally replied with a still hoarse voice.

“Two weeks and it still looks like this? It’s probably infected then… Who stitched you?”

The Prince remained silent.

_Holy shit…_

“You did it yourself, didn’t you?” She said, absolutely livid by now. She didn’t know if she should be angry at the Saiyan for butchering himself or pity him, because he’d probably had no one there to help him or care for him; for all she knew, there wasn’t a single one of those _‘men’_ of his that he could trust to do the job.

It was heartbreaking.

“Oh, Vegeta…” Bulma whispered, almost to herself, standing up and walking back to the bathroom, searching through the case of medical supplies. She finally found what she was looking for and went back to sitting by the Prince’s side.

“Alright… It’ll be better if I remove the stitches and start all over again. Are you okay with that?”

“There’s no need for that shit, I just told you I’m fine…” He irritably muttered with his eyes still closed, unable to face the look of distress in his woman’s eyes.

“Dende! Just let me help you, dammit! This is _not_ fine! It looks infected and the stitches are badly done, no wonder the skin is not healing properly…” The heiress replied in frustration.

Vegeta let out a small growl, giving up on arguing with the tenacious beauty.

“Silly woman…” He whispered again.

Bulma shook her head, thinking that the obstinate man was going to be death of her, and she got to work, injecting him another shot of anesthetics and meticulously removing the old stitches with the help again of her little scissors.

Her mate had truly done a very poor job, but considering he’d done it on his own and in such a difficult angle, and undoubtedly while being in a lot of pain, she supposed it could have been worse.

She cleaned the infected wound properly before she began the process of stitching it again, and when she was finally done, she dabbed a bit of antiseptic on it, just to be on the safe side, and grabbed the new syringe she’d just brought from the bathroom, only to be stopped by Vegeta’s hand once more just when she was about to inject him again.

“What now?” She asked tiredly.

“What is that?” He asked untrustworthily, looking at her with one eye open.

“It’s an antibiotic, to take care of the infection. I just injected you a second anesthetic shot before, why are you bothered by this one?”

“This one smells different…”

Bulma couldn’t help but smile a bit at that statement, and a rush of memories of her early adventures with Goku came to her. The little monkey had been just like Vegeta, his sense of smell so over-developed that he’d complain about every single little thing…

“Well, you need this one, so just trust me, okay?” She pleaded softly.

“Do what you must…” He finally said, knowing full well that his woman would never hurt or betray him.

It was something he’d instinctively known from day one, ever since she’d offered him food and shelter back on Earth. Vegeta really had no idea as to why that was; after all, he’d been poisoned countless times, and gone through failed murder attempts on more occasions than he cared to remember, a couple of times even by an angry drunken Nappa. Evidently, none of those efforts had succeeded, and he’d taken great pleasure in punishing the betraying idiots that had tried to end his life. Still, something about Bulma had always seemed pure and innocent to him, in spite of her big foul mouth and those indecent scraps of clothing she liked to wear, she was nothing like the vulgar conniving whores he’d met in space…

He abruptly opened his eyes at the sudden touch of the woman’s hands on his skin.

“It’s an ointment…” The heiress whispered before he had time to ask. “It won’t heal your ribs but it will help with the bruising and the swelling and bring you a bit of relief…” She explained while her clever little hands softly massaged the cream until Vegeta’s skin absorbed it properly.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” She asked worriedly.

He grunted again.

“It would take more than your puny hands to hurt me, woman…” He said with a smirk on his lethargic face, privately hoping she’d stop running those velvety hands across his skin before he did something he’d regret.

Bulma sighed and decided to let go of his insult, thinking that the last thing they needed was to start an argument. She knew the Prince was tired, and honestly, so was she.

“Well, my puny hands are done here… Let me just cover this for you a bit…” She said as she made another trip to the bathroom to wash the ointment off her hands and retrieve some gauze and surgical tape. She knew he was too heavy for her to wrap his ribs completely without his help, and he looked so drained that she chose to simply cover up the wound and finish the job when Vegeta was finally able to stand up again.

When she was done with his injuries, Bulma quietly cleaned her Prince’s face with the wet cloth, trying to eliminate the droplets of dried-up blood and sweat so that he’d sleep more comfortably.

“Vegeta… Do you need anything else?” She asked is a low voice, caressing his cheek and admiring how handsome the Saiyan looked like this. He always looked much more relaxed and even younger without his ferocious trademarked scowl…

When her mate didn’t answer, she guessed he was finally asleep and, glad that she’d contributed to help him get some rest, she retrieved all the medical supplies and the dirty clothing and bandages and made her final visit to the bathroom, putting everything back in its place and emptying the washbowl, now filled with crimson-colored water, into the toilet.

The heiress got up and walked to the sink to wash her face and freshen up a bit, only to be greeted by a very disturbing sight…

She gawked as the mirror reflected a woman she barely recognized: her skin, clothes and even her prized blue pendant were now covered in blood.

Her lover’s blood…

She looked pale and gaunt, with dark circles under her eyes, and she could tell she’d lost some weight ever since this whole expedition had begun.

The woman filled the washbowl with clean hot water, grabbed a fresh cotton cloth and removed her blood-soaked clothes, suddenly sickened by the feeling of it. She sat down on the floor with her back against the cool bathroom’s wall, pulled her hair up in a ponytail and began the revolting task of erasing the evidence of her mate’s self-punishment from her skin.

Before she knew it, her vision was blurry and her hands trembling…

Bulma broke down, releasing all the pain, anger and hopelessness out.

All of it.

She was mad, mad at herself for being stupid enough to fall in love with a man that probably didn’t even know what love was to begin with. Mad at Vegeta and the fucking Saiyan heritage bullshit he always carried around, like a burden, like a heavy load that wouldn’t allow him to adapt, to change, to grow… And she’d been an idiot for allowing herself to be seduced by that, by that smoldering intensity that consumed her like fire, a fire she couldn’t seem to be able to put down no matter how hard she tried.

She cried inconsolably, pressing her knees against her chest and covering her face in shame as she let it all out.

She missed her planet.

She missed her parents.

She missed her son.

She missed her baby so much sometimes she felt she’d go mad. It was as if someone had ripped off a piece of her, a physical part of her body, and she still wondered how it was possible to feel so attached to such a little person. But she did, she felt homesick and, for the first time, she seriously considered the possibility of packing up and going back home, abandoning Vegeta to his luck…

And yet, she couldn’t.

The horror that had coursed through her body when she’d found him laying on a pool of blood just a few hours earlier told her that she had to keep fighting, keep trying, for Vegeta, their child, herself and even for the fate of the Universe.

What the earthling didn’t know was that the Prince was witnessing her breakdown at that very moment. His sharp Saiyan senses had picked up on the quiet sobs and, given that the bathroom’s door was wide open and the mirror right in front of him, he could clearly see the frail petite woman curled up in a little ball on the floor, crying hysterically.

Because of him.

_Shit!_

If he hadn’t already believed there was a special place in Hell waiting just for him, he did now…

He was doing this to her, and it was disheartening to think that he didn’t know what to do to make things better for her. When he’d abandoned her and the kid, he’d truly believed he was doing them a favor by getting out of their lives, but now he realized he’d actually hurt his woman by leaving.

_Did she miss him?_

And how the fuck was that even possible when there were times he couldn’t even live with himself?

Vegeta squeezed his eyes shut, the sight of the weeping shivering woman sitting on the tiled floor, clad only in her lacy pink underwear, felt like a stab to the heart.

His dark, miserable heart…

It hurt him more than any physical wound in his body and, despite his exhaustion, he was unable to sleep with the sound of the dejected woman crying in the next room.

After a few minutes, the pitiful sounds finally stopped, and he went back to spying on her to see what she was up to now.

He watched as she stood on wobbly legs, unable to take his hungry eyes off her still gorgeous body, even though it was a tad too thin now; she washed her face with cold water and entered his room again, rummaging through his scarce closet until she pulled out one of his tight fitted t-shirts, which was black, sleeveless, and much too large for her, making it seem like she was wearing a little dress.

She looked perfect.

The heiress sat on the chair, clearly not knowing what to do next but apparently unwilling to leave him alone in his sleep. She groaned and finally decided to lay her head on the little desk placed by the bed, much like she’d done the time he’d made the Gravity Room explode and he’d awaken from his atrocious nightmares to the sight of her.

He hadn’t understood what she’d been doing back then.

And he sure as hell couldn’t grasp what was happening right now…

One thing he knew was, there was no way he’d allow her to sleep in such an uncomfortable position while he laid restfully on a bed. So, even though every fiber of his being was advising him to keep mistreating her so that she’d finally tire and walk away from him, he couldn’t stop what happened next.

“Bulma…” His gruff voice whispered, making the woman jump startled.

She immediately turned to him, offering him a close glimpse of her swollen blue eyes, blinking curiously as she waited for his next move.

Vegeta didn’t really know what to say so, not without difficulty, he moved his sore body to the side, leaving her some space available next to him. He lifted the white bed sheet a little with his right hand, silently inviting her to join him.

The heiress’ eyes widened in shock, and her legs walked her to the bed almost on their own volition. Bulma shyly knelt on the cot and laid next to the warrior, curling on her side while she buried her pretty face in his neck and her pale, slender arms wrapped themselves around the Saiyan’s waist, mindfully avoiding the damaged upper side of his torso.

He couldn’t help but imitate her actions, still laying on his back but enveloping her minute body with his right arm, holding her close to him, feeling her trembling form gradually relax in his powerful embrace.

This felt… _right._

This felt so fucking right that it scared the living shit out of him.

Bulma’s warm breath against his neck awakened emotions inside of him he couldn’t fully comprehend, but her reassuring presence was like a soothing balm for his broken soul, and for the first time ever since he’d left her home planet, the Prince decided to let go, if only for a mere few hours, and revel in the comfort she was offering him so freely…

“Vegeta…” His mate whispered almost inaudibly. “I’ve missed you so much…”

Her sweet voice and loving words made him feel a lump in his throat which was hard to swallow.

“Silly woman” he finally muttered, his embrace a bit tighter, trying to express without words what he was truly feeling right now.

Vegeta felt some wetness on his neck and his woman’s full lips laying a soft, trembling kiss on his tanned skin before she closed her eyes and mumbled…

“Stubborn Saiyan…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmm... What do you think?
> 
> Will Bulma finally tame the Saiyan Prince?
> 
> In the next chapter, Vegeta will make some special plans... Will Bulma be a part of them?


	17. An Innocent Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta wake up in bed together...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back again! Sorry for the lack of updates, but this next chapter got too long and heavy and I've decided to split it in two, so here's the first part...
> 
> I've also been dealing with a bit of a "writer's crisis", so I hope this chapter turned out alright...

He awoke to the sight of blue.

At some point during his slumber he’d buried his face in his woman’s silky hair, bringing her even closer to him. He could feel Bulma’s soft breath against his neck, the warmth of her body enveloping him, one arm lazily wrapped around his waist and a long leg intertwined with one of his.

_It felt incredible._

This, this is what he’d feared since day one, ever since he’d first laid eyes on the beautiful woman and, later on, when he’d taken her for the first time, finally making her his. He’d always known she’d end up becoming an addiction, and yet, he’d been unable to resist her charms…

It’d been hard enough leaving her immediately after he’d found out she was with child, and it was even harder abandoning her and the boy for a second time, but now, now he had no clue about what to do and he feared the grief they’d both go through when they’d separate for a third time.

He kept holding her against his strong body with one arm, incapable of letting her go, inhaling her sweet feminine scent and gently caressing her cheek with the other, feeling the hint of a smile touch his lips when he saw that little pout she made in her sleep that once again reminded him so much of their son. He could tell she was sleeping soundly, something he suspected she hadn’t done very often judging by how exhausted she’d looked when she’d been taking care of him earlier. Vegeta recalled their first encounter on this planet, when the heiress had mentioned how tired he looked and assumed he hadn’t had a good night’s sleep ever since he’d left the Earth.

She’d been right, of course.

His lonely nights had been plagued by nightmares, horrible visions that consumed him even after he’d wake up and that had changed and evolved the further he’d removed himself from Bulma.

At first, his own father had been the main protagonist, mocking him and haunting him, calling him a disgrace to his race, proclaiming what a failure his own son had turned out to be. Such images where the ones he’d shamefully shared with his mate in the embarrassing message he’d left for her back in that frozen planet…

_What the hell had he been thinking, baring his soul to her like that?_

And yet, at the same time, he felt a sense of relief at having been able to reveal his thoughts and fears to her, the only being in this goddamned universe he knew wouldn’t judge or laugh at him.

Lately, the humiliation of his defeat during the Cell Games had become secondary in his hellish dreams, and the poisonous imagery invading his broken mind at night was that of Bulma. In the most recurring one he saw her dying at the hands of one of his past demons, usually Frieza, and at times, his own child would become a victim too.

And sometimes…

Well, sometimes torture took the shape of his woman’s bold sensuality, seducing and tempting him, arousing him agonizingly and, just as he was about to touch her, to possess her, her luscious form would vanish and he’d wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweat, alone in his cold king-sized bed, his body begging for the release and comfort only she could provide.

All of a sudden, the Prince felt her little toes move as her leg stretched above his own, and her breathing changed, announcing she was about to awaken. Before he could remove his calloused hand from her cheek, she moaned softly and set her gorgeous blue eyes, which were now blinking lazily, on his dark ones. There was a brief silence as the heiress seemed to be trying to remember where she was, but soon she smiled shyly, imitating his actions and caressing his cheek too…

“Hey…” She whispered.

The sensation of her kind little fingers on his skin was enough to leave him hypnotized.

“How are you feeling?” She finally asked, slightly unnerved by his silence and the mysterious way in which he kept staring at her.

_How was he feeling?_

_Better than he had in a long fucking time, that’s how…_

He felt well-rested, not being able to recall when was the last time he’d slept that well. Sure, his body was still sore, a consequence of his thoughtless stupid behavior earlier, but his leg barely hurt, and the pressure and tightness he’d been experiencing on his ribs earlier had decreased considerably, reminding him once more of his mate’s many talents.

He kept staring at her for a few moments, entranced by those gentle eyes full of concern, and he decided he had to say something, _anything_ , to make her get away from him before he lost control and avidly kissed those plump lips…

“Thirsty,” he finally replied in a hoarse monotone voice, immediately removing his rough hand from her cheek.

“Oh? Right…” The heiress replied imitating his actions uncomfortably.

Vegeta could see the tinge of disappointment adorning her features now; clearly that hadn’t been the response she’d been expecting from him, then again, what did she truly expect? Love? Romance? That had never been his forte, had it? Before he had time to overthink things too much, he felt the woman carefully separate her body from his and sluggishly get up from the small bed.

“Let me check…” She whispered, stifling a small yawn.

She walked through the room, kneeling in front of the little fridge in the corner and examining it sleepily. She looked so beautiful with her messy hair, which was now longer than he recalled, and wearing his black shirt, so large for her frame that it offered him the view of her cute pink lacy bra underneath.

Bulma Briefs was one hell of a woman…

“Mmm… You have no sports drinks left…” She said thoughtfully, finally grabbing a bottle of cold water and walking into the bathroom, only to come back carrying the bottle and a little pouch.

“Here…” She said, opening the pouch and dissolving the orange powder it contained into the water, closing the bottle and shaking it again. Bulma stood by the bed, offering him the now orange liquid.

“They’re electrolytes, you’re probably dehydrated. It’ll make you feel better…” She explained sweetly.

The Saiyan sat on the bed slowly and grabbed the bottle, grunting in acceptance and drinking it greedily, while Bulma hopped on top of the desk by his bed, swinging her legs like a little girl, expectantly waiting for the warrior to make his next move. One look at the tiny spots of blood that still stained her lingerie told him that the first thing he had to do was get her out of there and make her take a shower; the sight of his woman tainted by his blood made him sick.

“We’re going back to the palace,” he finally said. “I have matters to attend to…”

“What matters?” The scientist curiously asked.

“Matters that are none of your concern, woman,” he replied gruffly.

Bulma rolled her eyes.

So, that’s how things were now?

It was so frustrating… As if they were taking one step forward and two steps backwards… But she kept reminding herself that she needed to be patient with her mate, given his current state of mind. Still, the fact that he was treating her much better than he had during their first encounter gave her some hope.

“Do you want some clothes?” She offered, noticing the man was naked underneath the bed sheets.

Vegeta nodded silently, avoiding eye contact with the blue haired beauty.

“Alright… Let me see what I can find in here…”

Bulma jumped gracefully from the table and took a look inside his small closet, quickly observing there wasn’t much for him in there, not even a single piece of armor.

“You have no armor, are some shorts and a t-shirt okay?”

“Whatever, woman, I just don’t wish to fly naked to the palace. I have more clothing available in my rooms…”  

“Right… Well, there you go…” The heiress said, softly placing the items on the bed and turning around shyly in order to give him some privacy as he got dressed. She grabbed her thin belt full of capsules and walked to the door.

“I’ll wait for you outside,” she whispered, quietly closing the door behind her.

Vegeta smirked at her sudden coyness, as if she’d never seen him naked before and done despicable things to his body when they’d shared a bed. For Gods’ sake, they even had a child together!

Still, he found her timid behavior oddly charming…    

He got dressed quickly, only having some difficulty when he had to bend down to lace his sneakers, and he left the room, not without cringing when he took a final look into the bathroom and saw Bulma’s clothes bathed in his dried-up blood. Knowing how much his little mate worried about him every time he got hurt, he couldn’t help the rush of guilt he experienced all of a sudden. And the guilt didn’t go away when he found the woman waiting for him behind the door, her back against the metallic wall of the ship, uncomfortably rubbing one of her arms as she tried to avoid the sight of the old puddle of blood that still stained the floor. He couldn’t stand seeing her like that, so he simply held her hand and swiftly walked her towards the exit door, masterfully avoiding the blood-soaked spot. When he finally left the gravity room he felt her stop and let go of his hand, making him turn around inquisitively.

“What is it?”

“I… I just don’t have any shoes on…” She muttered timidly, signaling at her bare little feet, which were nervously fidgeting on the floor.

_Great, just as he was trying to keep his distance from her…_

“Alright, come here…” He said, extending his strong arms and picking her up. She was light as a feather, and he felt something tighten in his chest when she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips and held on to him in a fierce embrace.

“Thank you…” She whispered in his ear.

He nodded silently, feeling his face burn. That damn woman was the only being in the entire universe that not only thanked him for every little thing he did for her, but could make him blush because of it…

“Hey! There you are!” A cheerful voice yelled, making the couple turn around and finding Krillin and Yamcha walking out of a small Capsule Corp. house they’d been staying at while they’d waited for their friend to leave the GR.

“We were a bit worried about you two, are you alright?” Krillin asked.

“What do you mean?” Bulma asked back, still being carried in her mate’s arms.

“Well, um… You know… It’s been like eleven or twelve hours since you two got in there…”

Vegeta’s eyes widened. Had they really been asleep for so long? He couldn’t recall the last time he’d gotten more than three or four hours of sleep. Did his woman’s presence truly have such a comforting effect on him?

“Really? Wow… I guess we were both a bit tired… Sorry to make you wait that long, guys…”

“Aw, B., it’s okay… We decided to stay in the little emergency house you gave us, thank Dende for air conditioning, right?” The bald man happily replied.

Yamcha remained silent, quietly observing the scene. He couldn’t help but notice the way Vegeta was holding his ex-girlfriend, and how he looked in much better shape than he had before, not only when he’d been bleeding out on the floor of the gravity room, but even when the warrior had visited them early in the morning. Bulma seemed to have an extremely positive influence on the Saiyan Prince, so he decided to run a little test…

“So… What’s the plan?” The scarred faced warrior finally questioned.

“Um, Vegeta needs to go back to the palace, there’s some stuff he needs to take care of, apparently…”

“Right… Do you want me to fly you there?” He enquired casually.

“I don’t think so, weakling.” Vegeta interrupted. “Your useless ass would probably drop her and then you’d have no one to fly that ship for you when you go back to your backwater planet…”

Before Bulma had time to give her opinion, the Saiyan took off towards their destination, clutching her possessively against him. Her human friends closely followed behind and when the woman peeked at Yamcha, she saw her ex-lover knowingly winking at her, making her smile playfully.

_Oh yes…_

Her mate’s jealousy couldn’t be a bad sign after all, right?

She buried her face on the Prince’s neck, nuzzling his musky skin, savoring every minute of it as she silently wondered if Vegeta’s body experienced such a powerful reaction to her nearness as well…

What Bulma didn’t know was that _powerful_ wasn’t quite the right word to describe what was going on inside her mate’s head in that moment.

_It was maddening…_

Feeling her hot little body pressed tightly against him, her cute nose and lips lovingly caressing his skin, was driving him absolutely insane with desire for her. He’d never even been particularly jealous of his woman’s ex-boyfriend, not even after they’d bizarrely managed to remain friends after their break-up, however, the thought of the human male, of _any male_ really, holding or touching Bulma made him feel physically ill.

_Why?_

_Wasn’t that what he’d wanted?_

Hadn’t he known all along what would happen anyway at some point when the heiress finally realized he wasn’t coming back to Earth? The Prince was no fool, and he knew damn well that Bulma was practically royalty herself in almost every way possible. Certainly, one of the best females her splendid planet had to offer. So, he knew there would be no shortage of men aspiring to take his place and woo the woman, perhaps even try to convince her to engage in that social convention humans knew as ‘ _marriage’_ and even offering to bring up his child as their own.

_It was sickening…_

The image of another man fucking his woman and raising his son was absolutely revolting, and yet, he wouldn’t be able to blame Bulma if and when she eventually chose to move on with someone else. Where was this possessiveness coming from, then? And was he really going to do something about it? Could he actually consider going back to her planet and raise their child together? The idea was becoming increasingly tempting the more time he spent with the striking woman in his arms…

“Gods… It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She whispered in his ear, her warm breath making his body shiver and his pulse speed up. He looked at her curiously, quickly realizing she was referring to the view of the majestic sunset offered by the two suns the planet orbited. The sky’s soft oranges, pinks and purples reflected on her skin gave her an almost ethereal quality, and he wished he could stop time right then and there and stay in that moment forever. He grunted in agreement to her statement and she smiled, kissing his cheek and making him blush again like a goddamned fool.

“Thanks for flying me…” Bulma murmured again.

“Mph... I wouldn’t trust that idiot to fly anyone…” He gruffly replied feeling self-conscious once again by her words of gratitude.

“Well, I would… But I trust you even more…”

_Trust him?_

That was a good one…

“Woman, you are absolutely insane…” He mumbled without any real malice or anger in his tone.

Bulma giggled and shrugged.

“Mmm… I think you like me that way _Lord Vegeta_ …” She replied cheekily, still smiling and nuzzling his blushed cheek and laying another innocent peck on it before finally going back to hiding her face in the crook of his neck to protect herself from the harsh winds.

The last thought Vegeta had before he gently landed on the grounds of his immaculate palace was that his woman would be the death of him…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... It seems Vegeta is already asking himself a few questions...
> 
> In the next chapter we'll finally find out what his mysterious mission will be...


	18. A New Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma discovers Vegeta's new plan, will she be a part of it?

Two of his men were already awaiting him, and stood in formation the moment they saw the Prince land. Bulma felt Vegeta’s body tense against hers instantly, and observed in fascination the way his body language morphed immediately into a commanding posture.  

“My Lord,” they both said at once, bowing reverently at the same time.

The Prince saw the enquiring way in which his men kept looking at the half-dressed woman still in his arms and he didn’t like it one bit, so he turned to her.

“Can you walk now?” He asked Bulma in a low voice.

The heiress nodded awkwardly, unwrapping her long legs from his waist and standing on the floor. The Saiyan finally let go of her, distancing himself and crossing his arms in an imposing stance.

“What is it? Any news for me?” He asked the two men with authority.

“Yes, my Lord. Your intelligence agent arrived about two hours ago, and I believe he’s been able to acquire the information you were seeking,” one of them replied in a respectful manner.

“Very well. Have him visit my chambers immediately,” Vegeta finally said; he turned around with a self-imposed neutral expression on his face.

“Woman, follow me,” he ordered, and then looked at Krillin and Yamcha. “You two can stay outside and do as you please as long as you don’t abandon the planet without my consent”.

Bulma gave a soft reassuring smile to her friends, leaving them behind and following Vegeta’s orders without complaining, not wanting to argue with her mate in front of his men. She got the feeling he was trying not to let the men know how close they actually were as a couple for her own protection, so she simply walked behind him, her bare feet making faint sounds against the cold marbled floors. Vegeta finally stopped when he reached a large door the heiress recognized right away in horror: her bedroom door.

“You will stay in your room, shower and wait for my instructions,” he said coldly, his eyes avoiding her gaze.

Bulma looked around, trying to make sure they’d left the Prince’s men behind and it was just the two of them before she had a chance to open her mouth.

“No,” she simply replied, crossing her arms firmly.

“What did you just say, woman?” He asked, now staring at her. He seemed to be slightly taken aback by her rebellious attitude.

“I said no,” she repeated, lifting her chin challengingly, her voice steady and still.

The warrior inhaled deeply through his nose, trying to remain cool. Once calm, he approached her slowly and threateningly, talking to her in a low menacing voice.

“You listen to me, woman, you will do as I say, are we clear?”

“Like Hell I will!” Bulma exploded. If the Prince of all Assholes thought she was going to keep playing this submissive woman little game of his he had another thing coming.

“If you think you’re going to keep fucking ordering me around like a little slave girl you’re mistaken, you idiot!” She yelled at him, now defiantly poking at his chest with her finger. Vegeta quickly grabbed the hand that was touching him aggressively, bringing his face even closer to hers.

“Watch it, Bulma! The Gods help me, if you don’t follow my rules I’ll…”

“You’ll, what?! Lock me up again like a damn prisoner? I’d like to see you try…” She challenged.

“Don’t test me, woman…” He growled, his entire body now trembling, not only in anger at his mate’s insubordinate attitude, but also in excitement. This woman was a little firecracker and he fucking loved her for it…

As if reading her thoughts and the hunger now written all over his handsome face, Bulma smirked playfully, whispering against his starving lips.

“If you want to lock me up, you’ll have to do it yourself _Lord Vegeta_ … But be careful… If you think I’m going to simply obey your stupid rules you might end up regretting them…”

Vegeta frowned at her words.

_It was a threat, and not a very subtle one._

And the man knew she was dead serious. Yes, he might try to lock her up, but if his genius woman chose to try to rebel and escape from her confinement she might very well end up succeeding, and even worse, getting hurt in the process. The planet was full of men he didn’t fully trust yet, and a stunning woman like Bulma walking around could end up getting hurt, truly hurt. In the back of his mind, even someone like Vegeta could admit to himself that the way he’d been treating his mate hadn’t exactly been the best way but, at the same time, he really didn’t know what to do about her, and he had not fucking idea what it was she honestly wanted from him either. The warrior also knew the heiress was almost as stubborn as he was, and there’d be no changing her mind about this matter, so, like a good tactician, he decided to take a different course of action.

“Fair enough…” He whispered, letting go of her hand and crossing his arms defensively. “What is it that you want then, woman?”

Bulma remained silent for a moment, truly shocked by her mate’s sudden change of attitude. Was this a new game he was playing? Or was he actually giving her a chance to talk to him?

“Time,” she finally answered.

The Prince raised an eyebrow questioningly and the woman let out a heavy sigh.

“I just… I just want some time, Vegeta… Some… Some time alone, with you…”

Her tone had changed, and she was now talking to him in a softer manner, almost pleading with him. He was aware of how proud the scientist was and how difficult these new circumstances must have been for her, and he also knew she was right. The woman seemed to be simply requesting some alone time with him, and Vegeta could acknowledge he owed her at least that much. Sure, he could simply grab her and shove her inside the goddamned room by brute force, but Bulma would never forgive him for that.

_Nor would he forgive himself._

He couldn’t stand the thought of his little mate hating him. She was the one person in his whole miserable life whose hatred he wouldn’t be able to endure…

“Alright, then... Come with me…” He finally said, turning around and walking resolutely towards his luxurious chambers.

Bulma followed closely behind, wondering about what the hell had gotten into that man to make him change his mind all of a sudden, but she hoped, once again, that this would be a positive sign; perhaps the Saiyan was finally learning a lesson or two on interpersonal relationships…

Just as they were about to reach his rooms, the heiress saw three men already waiting for Vegeta by the door. One was Dodonne, the pink alien, and the other two belonged to that fish-faced race of aliens she’d seen quite a few times already, but she couldn’t recognize exactly who they were.

“My Lord…” The three men said, bowing once more.

The Prince ignored them completely, opening the door and wordlessly inviting Bulma into his bedroom. She shyly walked inside the opulent but cold place, turning around with distrust in her eyes. What if her mate simply decided to lock her up in here? As if reading her feelings, the Saiyan talked to her in an attempt to appease her doubts.

“Stay here, woman, I’ll be right back.”

Just as he was about to get out, Bulma boldly grabbed his wrist, forcing him to look at her once again.

“Vegeta…” She murmured.

“Bulma, I’m not leaving you alone in here. I’ll be right outside, and we’ll discuss matters in a short time, alright?” He promised, trying to sound reassuring. It must have done the trick, because she nodded and let go of him.

“Okay, I trust you…”

_Trust._

Again.

It was the second time that day the blasted woman had told him she trusted him.

_What the actual hell was wrong with her?_

He chose to ignore those big blue eyes begging him to stay and walked out the door, closing it behind him but leaving it slightly ajar, thus allowing Bulma to snoop and listen in to the conversation taking place outside.

“Did you locate the target?” The Prince simply asked.

“Yes, my Lord. The target was relatively easy to find, I have compiled all the information collected in here, including the coordinates of the target’s exact location.”

“You’ve done well, soldier. If your information proves to be correct you’ll be rewarded accordingly,” Vegeta’s voice replied.

“Thank you, my Lord…” The soldier replied respectfully, his voice full of relief and satisfaction at having served his Master well.

“Go eat and get some rest, soldiers. That will be all.”

“My Lord,” all three voices spoke at the same time.

The Saiyan entered his room immediately, holding an electronic device similar to a tablet in his hand. He found Bulma sitting on his bed cross-legged, and one look at her face told him she’d heard the whole conversation.

“What was that all about? What target were you looking for?” She asked, unable to hide her apprehension.

Vegeta sat wearily on a chair by the door, the pain in his fractured ribs was bothering him again and he was too tired to deal with all that was happening at the moment. He pinched the bridge of his nose, avoiding his mate’s gaze and he replied.

“It’s nothing, woman… Why don’t you just take a shower first?”

Bulma remained silent for a few seconds. She could tell he was lying to her, but he also looked like hell, and by the way he was sitting it looked like his old wound still hurt him. It was almost as if he’d been acting, playing a part in front of his men, and only allowed himself to show his true shattered nature in front of her. Perhaps a shower would give them both some time to cool off before they finally managed to have some sort of conversation.

“Will you be here when I get back?” She inquired in a soft voice, making him raise his eyes and look at her tiredly.

“I’ll be right here, Bulma, you have my word. Now go take a shower and put some clothes on, woman…”

The heiress nodded and entered Vegeta’s bathroom, carefully closing the door behind her and taking off her clothes. The place was even larger and more lavish than the one she’d been staying at, and yet it was almost empty; the only objects laying around were a bar of soap and a couple of white towels. In the corner, she also found the remains of what looked like a tattered armor covered in dried-up blood.

“Oh, Dende…” Bulma mumbled absentmindedly while she entered the shower.

Outside, the Prince walked to the bed and sat on it, examining the red belt he’d seen his woman carrying around. He saw at once that it was full of tiny capsules, a lot smaller than the ones he owned, undoubtedly one her newest inventions.

He smirked.

“Clever little bitch…” He whispered.

By the time Bulma got out of the shower, clad only in one of Vegeta’s white towels, her mate was laying on the bed, sleeping peacefully, clutching her belt in one of his hands. She smiled sweetly, and walked to the bed with the intention of getting the capsule that contained her clothing without waking him up.

Of course, she had no success…

The moment she touched him, the warrior automatically opened his eyes in alert, clutching her wrist in a strong grip.

“Vegeta… It’s me…” She said in a low voice.

He had an odd look on his face, almost haunted, as if he didn’t recognize her, and she felt the bones in her wrist pop.

“You’re hurting me, Vegeta… Please, let go…” She begged softly, caressing his cheek and trying to ground him, to remind him of who she was and where they were.

The Prince blinked a few times in confusion and finally released her. He sat down, hissing at the sharp pain he was experiencing in his ribs, and run his hands through his hair a few times. He finally got up and walked to the bathroom, removing his shirt on the way and throwing it on the carpet. He closed the door, leaving a very disconcerted woman waiting for him outside.

_‘Get you shit together, Vegeta… What the fuck?’_

The scalding water soothed his aching muscles while his mind raced at a million miles per hour.

_What just happened? Had he hurt her?_

He knew something was seriously wrong with him. This wasn’t like him. This wasn’t like him at all… Lately he’d been feeling tired all the time, and yet, he’d been unable to sleep properly until she’d come back into his life. What did that mean? Did he actually need Bulma that badly by his side?

And what was even worse, he was supposed to go on a mission, what was he going to do with the woman? Take her with him?

_No fucking way…_

He left the shower and took a look in the mirror: he looked like death warmed up. And when he removed the gauze the woman had covered his wound with he saw that, even though it was looking a lot better, it wasn’t healing as quickly as it should. His only hope was that the backstabbing bastard that had done this to him would be rotting in Hell for all eternity.

After realizing he hadn’t brought any clothes with him, he wrapped a towel tightly around his waist and walked back to the room. The night had fallen by now and it was quite dark outside; inside his chamber, Bulma had lit up a couple of candles and was now looking out the window open-mouthed. Vegeta frowned and closed the distance between them, perplexed by his mate’s behavior. She was still in her underwear and there was a huge pile of clothes on the bed, which could only mean she’d gotten distracted by something while she was getting dressed.

One look outside told him exactly what she was staring at…

_Shit!_

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit…_

“Woman…”

“Vegeta… What…? What are those men doing?” She whispered, absolutely horrified but unable to take her eyes off the disturbing scene taking place outside the palace, by the gardens.

There were several men removing what appeared to be three dead bodies.

_Three beheaded dead bodies._

“Bulma, come here…” Vegeta said to her, grabbing her by the waist and removing her from the window. His heart sank when the woman flinched at his touch and rapidly took his hands off her.

“What were they doing?” She asked again, this time louder and with her eyes locked on his.

_He’d fucked up._

_Big time._

She wasn’t supposed to see that, but there was no going back now…

“Punishment,” he finally replied.

“Punishment…” She repeated in a low voice. “What… What for?”

“That’s not your business, woman! Now put some goddamned clothes on!” Vegeta yelled at her, stomping to the bed, grabbing a silk lavender robe and throwing it her way.

“Bullshit, Vegeta! I’m sick of all this _‘it’s not your business’_ crap! What the fuck is going on here?”

The warrior closed his eyes and counted to ten, inhaling deeply in an attempt to calm down. He wasn’t in the mood for this shit; his ribs hurt, he was getting a migraine and, worst of all, Bulma’s eyes, so full of reprobation and judgement, were bringing him an unexpected sense of guilt and regret.

“Woman… Could you please just put some fucking clothes on?”

The heiress reluctantly put her robe on, closing the silky belt and sitting on the bed. Her heart was pounding inside her chest and the room was spinning around her.

_This was simply too much for her…_

“Did you do it?” She whispered, staring at the carpeted floor.

By now, her mate was back on the chair, one arm on the arm rest and another one supporting his head, hiding his dark eyes from her.

“No,” he replied reluctantly.

“W-Who did it then… Your men?”

Silence.

“Vegeta… I… I’m not going to judge you… I just…”

“You just what, woman?!” He roared.

“Goddammit! I’m just trying to understand you!”

_Understand him?_

_Fucking great…_

“What is it that you want me to say, uh? You wouldn’t comprehend it anyway…” He said defiantly. His hands were now clutching the wooden armrests and he could feel the wood splitting between his rough fingers.

Bulma just looked at him in silence, knowing she had to tread lightly from now on. Whatever was going on in that garden, he said he hadn’t done it. The heiress recalled her conversation with Khalla, and she kept telling herself that, even though the Saiyan’s mind was half-broken, he was still capable of discerning good from evil, and whatever those men had done to get penalized in that manner, they probably deserved it. She knew she could yell at him, trying to force an answer out of him in an epic argument or…

Or maybe, _just maybe_ , she could try to get closer to her mate. After all, she knew damn well he could have simply locked her up in that awful icy room by sheer force, but he’d chosen to bring her with him instead.

_That had to be a good sign…_

So Bulma made her move, slowly standing up from the bed and walking towards him. She could feel his eyes on her, those dark penetrating eyes, and she simply sat on his lap, accommodating her small body on one of his strong thighs. He was trembling in fury, and something else the earthling couldn’t put her finger on. She knew Vegeta always resorted to anger when he wanted to protect himself from the outside world, so she decided to go in a different direction this time.

She removed one of the hands he had hooked on the now destroyed armrests and held it kindly.

“It’s a shame, you know?” She spoke softly. “It was a nice chair…”

The Prince stared astonished at her pale hands as she carefully removed a few splinters from his fingertips. He had no idea what was truly driving his woman to behave like this, but her tenderness automatically seemed to calm him down. He gasped inaudibly when she licked a couple of tiny blood drops from his index finger as if they were her own, and when she was done, she intertwined her fingers with his, placing his hand on her lap and caressing it with her thumbs as she spoke.

“Tell me something… Did they deserve it?” She whispered in a voice that was full of warmth.

The surprising lack of accusation in her eyes and tone made the Saiyan open up to her.

“They did.”

“What did they do?”

“Woman… You don’t want to know…”

“I’m a grown woman, Vegeta, whatever it was, I can take it…”

The warrior sighed with the unshakeable certainty that Bulma wasn’t going to let the matter drop.

“They broke the rules,” he finally replied.

“What rules did they break?” The woman asked inquisitively.

“Rape.”

The heiress couldn’t help the wave of nausea that the word made her feel, and she squeezed Vegeta’s hand a little tighter as the memories of her conversations with Khalla came back to her. It was clear by now that her mate abhorred such actions.

“Did… Did they do it?” She managed to enquire once again.

“No, but they were close.” The Saiyan stopped for a moment, gently grabbing her chin and forcing her to look him in the eye. “Dangerously close,” he said in a low growl.

“I… I see…”

Bulma swallowed hard at both Vegeta’s gaze and the barely concealed fury in his voice, and she unconsciously bit her lip before she continued.

“So… Did you order your men to punish them in that way?”

The Prince shook his head firmly, still maintaining eye contact with her.

“No. I ordered their arrest, but my men were the ones who chose the penalty.”

_So, that’s what it was…_

The heiress remained silent, secretly enjoying the warm touch of the man’s hand on her skin, and happy to know that Vegeta still remained true to some inflexible principles. The punishment of those soldiers had been horrifying, but then again, so were the actions they would have committed if they hadn’t been stopped. While Bulma didn’t know much about how things worked in space, she’d already guessed that it was like a wild jungle, a place where the strong took whatever or whoever they wanted by force if necessary, so she decided to drop the issue and move on to her next question.

“You mentioned a target… Is that… Is that a person?” She asked shyly.

He nodded, still looking deeply into those expressive blue eyes.

“May I ask who that is?”

“An old enemy,” Vegeta simply replied, unable to stop his thumb from caressing her silky cheek while he held her face.

“Alright…” Bulma continued, frowning slightly, trying to put all the pieces together inside her head.

“And, I’m assuming that person is on another planet…”

“He is.”

The Saiyan warrior kept humoring her, answering her questions and secretly wondering where she was going with this.

“When are you leaving?” She enquired again, deep down dreading the inevitable reply.

“Soon.”

“Is it… Is it a dangerous mission?”

“No.”

“Are you gonna kill him?”

“I am,” he replied with firm conviction, and the heiress felt her heartrate increase a little as her brilliant mind quickly attempted to form a plan.

“Alone?”

The Prince assented again.

“Take me with you…” She pleaded, the words escaping her mouth before she could fully grasp the consequences of what she was asking of him.

Vegeta’s eyes opened wide, now holding his mate’s delicate face with both hands and shaking her a little.

“Absolutely not! Are you insane, woman?”

“W-What? N-No… Vegeta just…”

“No!” He yelled, feeling an inexplicable rush of fury and fear for the scientist’s safety take possession of him.

“You will go back to Earth, woman! And that’s an order!”

Bulma flinched at those words. The strong, independent, rebellious side of her wanted to yell at him, to challenge his orders and his authority, but things were different now. If she actually wanted to get something from this man and try to build a more mature relationship with him, it was time to try a different approach…

“Vegeta…” She whispered, placing her tiny hands above the calloused ones that were still on her cheeks.

“Please… I promise…”

“Woman… What are you…?”

“Just listen to me, please…” She murmured. “I promise… I promise I won’t get in your way… I trust you, and I’m sure you have your reasons to…”

“Bulma...” He whispered back, cutting her off. The warrior kept staring at her, shocked by her unusually docile behavior.

“Vegeta… You just… Just… Take me with you…”

The heiress got even closer to her mate, gently resting her forehead against his, staring right into his dark unfathomable eyes. She could feel his hot ragged breath against her lips and she’d never wanted to kiss him as desperately as in that instant.

“Woman… I can’t…” Vegeta replied, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment while he fought the urge to give in to her wishes. He could feel his body melt against her proximity and his resolve rapidly crumble…

_What was it about his little mate that made him lose control this way?_

“Remember what you asked before? You asked me what it was that I wanted, and I told you… I want some time… Just… Some time alone with you, Vegeta…”

She kept caressing his bronzed skin with her frail hands, destroying the walls he’d carefully built around himself once more after he’d left her behind, smashing those barriers, one by one, with her gentle touch…

“Why?” He enquired, forcing himself to hold her gaze again.

“Because… Because it’s never been the two of us, Vegeta… There’s always been something else, something…”

“Bulma… What are you talking about? We _have_ been alone together, woman…”

She shook her head slowly, laying a feathery kiss on the corner of his lips that made something inside his chest tighten.

“No, baby… Can’t you see? There was all that madness… All that madness around us… Your training for the androids, and…”

“I had to train, woman!” He whispered furiously, interrupting her once more.

“I know that, and I’m not berating you for it… Didn’t I help you with your training myself?”

He remained silent.

She had.

This silly little woman had helped him more than anyone he’d ever met in his entire miserable existence.

“All I’m saying is… I… I loved every single moment we shared together back then… But there was always something else… The danger of the androids, and then my pregnancy and you leaving and… I just…”

She paused, biting her lower lip in frustration.

Bulma could feel her eyes burning, a combination of the humiliation of having to beg this man for some alone time together and the sorrow of realizing they hadn’t truly had the opportunity to give their relationship, or whatever this thing between them was, a real try.

_It just felt so unfair…_

“I want a few days with you… Just a few days… You do whatever you have to do, I won’t judge you or get in your way… And then we just… We just spend some time together, just the two of us…”

She stopped talking, and the sight of her, looking at him expectantly with pleading eyes, made Vegeta finally come to a realization he’d probably known all along...

_He wanted her._

_He wanted her so fucking much it hurt._

He knew taking Bulma with him was dangerous, not because of the enemy he was about to face, but because he genuinely didn’t know if he’d survive even a few days alone with this woman, this beautiful woman that had turned his entire world upside down.

Vegeta didn’t know who or what he was anymore, but whether he was an evil overlord, or simply a half-redeemed failure of a warrior, one thing was for sure: he couldn’t deny her request.

He owed this woman, who had given him as much as she could and more, the small request she was asking for.

So, even though every rational fiber of his being told him that this was a bad idea, he couldn’t help the words that escaped his mouth…

“Get dressed, woman. We’re leaving tonight.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it looks like Vegeta and Bulma are going on a little trip together...
> 
> Are you guys ready?


	19. A Big Bowl Of Strawberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta depart from Planet Z365 in search of a new adventure...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> I'm really sorry this update took me so long, but my chapters seem to be naturally getting longer for some reason and I worked a bit harder than usual on this one.
> 
> I hope you guys like it...

Bulma unfastened the safety belt of the pilot’s seat with trembling hands.

It’d all happened so fast ever since Vegeta had agreed to take her with him on his little solo mission that it was still hard for her to assimilate her new circumstances.

They’d both gotten dressed and left Planet Z365 in the middle of the night. Vegeta had allowed the heiress a quick visit to her friends’ room to communicate their new plan and say her goodbyes. Bulma had asked the Prince to let Krillin and Yamcha leave the planet and go back to Earth with the other space ship, but the Saiyan warrior had vehemently forbidden both men to do so and had given strict orders to his men that, even though the earthlings were to be treated with respect and hospitality at all times, they would not abandon the planet unless their Master gave them a different order.

The woman had been worried at first, after all, she was fully aware of the fact that most of the men in Vegeta’s army were much stronger than her friends, but when she’d raised her concerns to her mate he’d almost gotten offended at the mere insinuation that his subordinates would dare to disobey a direct command coming from him.

So Bulma had finally decided to trust the Prince’s word and intuition once again, and after exchanging a few comforting words and some very effusive hugs with Krillin and Yamcha, she finally got inside the ship with Vegeta, ready to embark on her next journey with the Prince. Despite her natural love for adventure and exciting new experiences, she was mostly just happy to get to spend some private time alone with her mate, secretly hoping he’d relax and loosen up a bit around her when it was finally just the two of them.

The ship’s take off had gone well, but it’d also been a bit rough and that, combined with her fatigue and the fact that she hadn’t eaten much in the past few days, made her feel momentarily dizzy. The scientist remained sited on the chair for a few minutes, breathing deeply and slowly in an attempt to calm down and make the sudden wave of nausea go away. The last thing she needed was to make a fool of herself by getting sick in front of Vegeta…

“Are you alright, woman?” A soft masculine voice asked.

Bulma opened her eyes and realized the Saiyan was now standing right in front of her, looking at her with barely hidden concern.

“Yeah… I’m fine…” She whispered in a trembling voice.

Vegeta knelt down and inspected her with dark, penetrating eyes. He held one of her hands and frowned when he realized it was cold and covered by a thin sheen of sweat. His woman was also looking paler and thinner than usual.

“When was the last time you ate?” He finally asked.

“Um… I don’t know…” Bulma replied shyly.

_When was the last time she’d had something to eat?_

Certainly, not that day; after waking up early in the morning and discovering the Prince wounded on the floor of the Gravity Room, she’d been focused on healing him. Then they’d slept together for quite a few hours, only to wake up and end up going back to Frieza’s old palace and have that intense argument as the night fell.

“A bit more than a day, I think…”

Vegeta’s eyes widened a little.

“Tch! You had no breakfast this morning?” He enquired again, trying to hide his worry behind a false mask of anger.

“N-No…” The heiress continued. “But it’s okay. I’m fine, really…”

“This will not do, woman.”  

Before Bulma had time to react, she felt her mate’s strong arms lift her effortlessly from the pilot’s seat, holding her and carrying her bridal-style to the kitchenette.

“Silly woman…” He mumbled irritably. “You will eat some food right now. I will not have you falling ill during this trip. It’s bad enough that I have agreed to bring you with me on this mission, but I don’t wish to have to waste my time taking care of you simply because you’ve been fool enough to neglect your self-care, are we clear on that?”

The blue haired woman nodded slowly, overwhelmed by her body’s weakness and the sensation of Vegeta’s solid embrace surrounding her.

Vegeta sat her delicately on one of the tall kitchen chairs and looked around as if looking for something.

“Where’s the food, woman?”

“There are a couple of capsule pouches inside that first drawer.”

The Prince opened the place the heiress was pointing at and offered her the small container.

“Which one is it?” He asked again.

“Here.” Bulma replied as she handed him a tiny blue capsule. “The blue ones contain refrigerated and frozen meals and the red ones packaged food that doesn’t need to be kept cold”.

Vegeta clicked on the capsule’s button and threw it at a safe distance, revealing a massive refrigerator, just like the woman had promised. He opened and inspected it, unable to stop his stomach from growling at the sight of all the delicious food standing right in front of him, waiting to be devoured.

“I think there are some frozen lasagnas in the freezer, I’ll have one myself…” The heiress whispered, making a move to get up and grab the frozen meal herself, only to be stopped by her mate’s hand.

“Stay where you are, I’ll take care of it,” he said in a voice that told her his decision was non-negotiable.

He knelt on the floor, inspecting the contents of the large freezer, and finally grabbed a handful of boxes, walking towards the small kitchen counter where the microwave and the oven were.

“Vegeta… I’m fine, really… I can do it myself, just let me…”

“What’s the matter, woman? You think me so stupid that you believe I won’t be able to use your primitive kitchen appliances?” He said looking at her with a malicious smirk on his handsome face.

Bulma didn’t answer, finally deciding to simply sit on the chair and let the warrior do all the work. She knew her mom had taught the Saiyan how to heat up the meals she constantly left for him in the refrigerator back at home. His training schedule had always been chaotic and brutal, so it wasn’t uncommon for the warrior to finish his workouts long after everyone else had gone to bed. She was aware of the fact that his knowledge of their written language was limited, but it was good enough for him to read simple things such as food labels.

Still, the heiress couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight of her favorite man making the effort to prepare a meal for her, even if it was just by sticking it in the oven for a few minutes. As they both shared a comfortable silence while they waited for their food to be ready, Bulma examined his body language and realized that, even though he was still trying to keep his tough warrior façade, he also seemed to be concerned for her well-being, and he definitely looked more relaxed than when he was around his men.

_That had to be a good sign…_

The sound of a plate being placed in front of her brought her back to reality and, before she had time to get up, Vegeta also handed her a clean fork he’d found on the second drawer, a napkin and a bottle of cold mineral water.  

“Th-Thanks…” She mumbled in awe at the sudden acts of kindness coming from her Prince.

He simply grunted, turning around and going back to heating up his own packaged meals, and the blue haired woman could swear she’d seen the hint of a blush on his tanned cheeks.

“Eat, woman,” he ordered after noticing his mate hadn’t touched her lasagna yet.

“I was just waiting for you…” She replied timidly.

“ _Bulma_ , that won’t be necessary. Just start without me…”

The sound of her name on his lips, combined with his softer than usual tone of voice made her nod and dig into her meal without any further complaints. It was almost as if he knew exactly when and how to say her name to make her melt entirely…

Not long after, Vegeta placed his own trays of food on the table and joined her, silently enjoying his generous meal with her.

The food truly was delicious, and Bulma couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness, realizing once again how much she missed her mom and her home cooked meals. She kept telling herself that in the end all the grief and loneliness would be worth it, and she felt especially hopeful seeing the Saiyan’s worry about her health.

On his part, Vegeta was in Heaven. For all the silly Earth customs he didn’t care about or simply didn’t even understand, he had to admit they had the most enjoyable food he’d encountered in all the worlds he’d ever visited, and they’d been quite a few. Bulma, surprisingly, wasn’t a bad cook herself, but her mother’s cooking skills were outstanding, and the only thing that had made him mildly tolerate her goofy and embarrassing antics.       

During his first few weeks in space, he’d lived on the food supplies his little mate always prepared for him whenever he traveled on one of his long training missions. But he’d eventually run out of them, and had to find other ways to satisfy his insatiable Saiyan appetite.

In the last stage of his space travels, Vegeta had gotten used to hunting wild animals, which he always cooked with a simple ki blast. His diet also included whatever fresh fruits and vegetables he could find and encapsulate, after making sure they were not poisonous, of course. His extremely sensitive sense of smell was of great assistance on those occasions, helping him discern the edible from the inedible most of the time.

As he finished his third lasagna and dug into a huge serving of beef stew with vegetables and cooked rice, the Prince couldn’t help but feel grateful that he hadn’t had to resort to eating dead aliens, something he’d sadly had to do on rare occasions during his purging missions with Raditz and Nappa. The mere thought disgusted him now but, at the time, it had been the only way to subsist when there were no other choices available. In those days, survival was the only thing that truly mattered.

_How different things had been back then…_

Bulma had certainly been the one to change his life irreparably.

The woman had invited him into her home and opened his eyes to a new way of life in the process, offering him a world of pleasure, of warm succulent foods he could savor without the fear of getting poisoned, and soft comfortable beds where he could sleep soundly with both eyes closed.

And, of course, she’d given him the most valuable thing of all: herself.

What at the beginning had started as a purely physical attraction had turned into the only real intimate connection he’d ever shared with another living creature. The warmth of her body, her clever little mouth that could both spew the sharpest insults and the kindest words of support at once, her generosity, intelligence, bravery and tenacity had been something he’d never really expected to encounter in the past.

He glanced surreptitiously at the frail female still focused on her half-eaten meal and he wondered if he’d ever be able to go back to her, to live and share his life with Bulma and their child.

A life of harmony and comfort, a family life…

_Family._

He’d never had a family, had he? At least, not one he could actually remember with clarity…

He was a loner, a vagabond with no home and no roots to speak of, and above all, he was a warrior. A killing machine that had been born to fight, destroy and conquer, or die trying. Could he just go back to Earth and live the peaceful life of a family man? And most importantly, did he even deserve such a chance?

The Saiyan was no fool. Even though he’d lived a life of mayhem and destruction he’d always known right from wrong on some level and he knew someone like him was inescapably destined to an eternity burning in Hell.

Sure, his accidental resurrection and new life on Bulma’s planet had given him the brief glimpse of hope that maybe, just maybe, he could redeem himself by ascending to Super Saiyan status and destroying those fucking androids that had made his son’s and mate’s lives a living hell in a different timeline. Throughout those three years spent on Earth, he’d created a pretty grandiose image of himself inside his head, the illusion that he’d have the chance, for once in his life, to go from villain to hero, from killer to savior.

_Oh yes, it would have been a glorious moment indeed…_

Instead, his nemesis had sacrificed himself in battle like a goddamned martyr, and an eleven-year old kid had killed the monster no one else had been able to defeat.

On his rare good days, he kept reminding himself that he’d contributed to Cell’s defeat, by helping Goku’s child when he was running out of energy.

_On his bad days, however…_

Well, on his bad days he literally felt like nothing, like the pathetic shell of a warrior that deserved to crawl into some obscure long-forgotten corner of the Universe and die alone.

If he was completely honest with himself, at times he wished he hadn’t even been resurrected to begin with, and he felt like the Gods had brought him back to life only to toy with his pride and laugh at him once again, the same way they had mocked him during his death at the hands of the repulsive purple lizard that had ruined his childhood and stolen his innocence in so many ways…

“Boy… I’m stuffed!” Bulma giggled, gently pushing her unfinished meal away and patting her small belly.

The sound of her laughter was enough to push his old demons away, and the warrior examined her plate, frowning in disapproval.

“You haven’t even finished your meal, woman… Eat!” He ordered.

“What? Yes, I have! I’m full!” The heiress whined, almost as if she were a little girl being scolded by her parents.

Vegeta studied her again, noticing that a little color had already returned to Bulma’s smooth cheeks and she seemed to be in better spirits. He avoided her gaze again as soon as she offered him one of those sweet smiles full of gratitude that unnerved him so much.

“It was really good…” She said in a low voice, kindly caressing one of his hands. “Thank you, Vegeta…”

The Prince shook her off immediately, shrugging and feeling his face get distressingly hot.

“Tch! You don’t have to thank me, woman… All I did was stick that thing in the oven…” He replied, still not looking at her, focusing on his meal as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

The blue haired beauty smiled knowingly, feeling really tempted to let him know how fucking cute he looked when he was all embarrassed by someone else’s thankfulness towards him, but finally choosing to let it go so she wouldn’t ruin the moment.

“Still… It was very sweet of you…” She took a large sip of her cold water before she continued. “You were right… I’m feeling much better already…”

Vegeta simply grunted and shrugged again, trying to let the subject go; fewer things made him feel more uncomfortable than Bulma thanking him for something, for _anything_ really, especially taking into account how many things his mate had already done for him and his blatant incompetence at showing her _his_ appreciation for most of them.

As if she could read his mind, the earthling got up and started to clear the table, putting the large amount of already empty dishes inside the dishwasher and pretending not to notice the man’s flushed face. He was on his seventh meal and still going strong and she secretly wondered if he was still hungry…

“Do you want me to heat up more meals for you? Or some dessert, perhaps?” She offered.

The Prince swallowed hastily before he replied.

“Dessert,” he said, his eyes never leaving his fourth beef and rice dish.

“Alright…” Bulma murmured, walking to the refrigerator and opening the door, taking a peek inside.

“Wow! My mom sure baked a lot of sweets for you! Mmmm… Let’s see… Would you like some apple pie or chocolate cake?”

Vegeta took a large sip of orange juice, directly from a large bottle, drinking half of it in one gulp.

“Both,” he finally replied.

Bulma giggled again, lighting up the room with her cheerfulness.

“Very well, Your Highness…” She said mockingly, placing both desserts on the table, right in front of him. “There you go… Let me get you a knife… Are you done with this?” She asked pointing at the last empty plate he’d just finished. The warrior assented and Bulma grabbed it and placed it in the dishwasher with the others, she then opened the second drawer of the kitchen counter and gave her mate a dessert knife.

The Saiyan’s mouth salivated at the sight of the delicious desserts; he held the knife and proceeded to cut each one of the pastries into smaller pieces.

“Do you want a slice, woman?”

“Uh? Um, not thanks…” Bulma mumbled, already walking back to the fridge and opening it again. “I’d swear I just saw some… Oh! There they are!”

The heiress stood next to him, showing him a large bowl of something…

“Strawberries!” She said triumphantly. “You want some?”

Vegeta immediately recognized the tiny red fruits; he recalled having eaten them before and finding them quite tasty, so he grunted in agreement.

“Great! I’ll have a few and you can eat the rest! Let me wash them first…”

She placed them in the kitchen sink and thoroughly washed the juicy berries as she hummed a little song. Normally, Vegeta would have found her cheerful behavior annoying after such a long and taxing day, but today he was secretly pleased by her happy mood.

_It made him feel strangely good…_

Bulma set the large bowl on the table and looked through the kitchen cabinet for a smaller one, putting a few strawberries for her in it and offering Vegeta the rest.

“Wait! I know what will make them taste even better…”

A couple of minutes later, Bulma sat next to him, placing another small bowl near the juicy fruits. The warm and sweet scent let the Prince immediately know it was melted chocolate, a delicacy his woman had also introduced him to in the past...

“Here… I knew we had some chocolate somewhere, I just melted it in the microwave and now we can… Wait, are you...?”

Bulma stopped her chatter all of a sudden, gawking at Vegeta, who hadn’t been able to resist the temptation and had simply grabbed a handful of strawberries from the large bowl and shoved them into his mouth. Her shock wasn’t lost on the warrior, who finished chewing his food and swallowed quickly.

“What?” He asked, honestly not knowing what the hell he’d done wrong this time.

The heiress smiled a bit, trying not to make him feel self-conscious.

“Um… Nothing… It’s just that, well… You’re not supposed to eat the green part, that’s all…”

Vegeta frowned.

_How the fuck was he supposed to know that?_

Before he had time to come up with some snarky reply in order to try to hide his embarrassment, Bulma simply kept talking.

“Here, let me show you…”

Bulma grabbed one of the tiny fruits in her small hand and held it by the little patch of green leaves.

“You hold it like this, and then you dip it…” She then submerged the tip of the juicy berry and brought it to her lips, quickly licking a tiny drop of chocolate that was about to drip with the tip of her pink tongue and taking a small bite, moaning in delight and smiling brightly at him in satisfaction.

“See? Slowly… You have to savor it…” She smiled again in encouragement. “Now you try…”

His mortification was soon forgotten at the sight of his woman beaming, and he carefully imitated her actions, trying to enjoy the delectable fruits one by one. They ate in silence for a few minutes, and the Saiyan’s mind was gradually overflooded by memories of the time Bulma had first offered him a taste of the heavenly treat.  

_Of course, it hadn’t been precisely in the kitchen…_

It had taken place during one of her nocturnal visits to his almost empty bedroom back at the Capsule Corp. compound. The woman had just recently declared her interest in him in her usual courageous manner: by simply grabbing him and crushing her lips against his in the middle of the Gravity Room during one of their daily heated arguments. His dark eyes had widened in shock at her bold behavior, but he’d quickly allowed himself to play her little game by responding to her actions and deepening their kiss.

A shiver run down his spine as he recalled the look on her face when she’d finally let go of him, desperately gasping for air, her pouty lips swollen by their passionate kiss and a tinge of insecurity in her eyes. For a brief moment, they just stared into each other’s eyes not really knowing what to say, before the Prince finally decided to throw caution to the wind and repeat their actions once again, aggressively joining his lips to hers and clutching her soft petite body tightly against his muscular one.

_It was fucking incredible…_

The second time she’d let go of him, her attitude had changed, and there was a newfound cockiness in her eyes, the confidence of a woman who’d just discovered that the desire she felt towards a man was mutual. She offered him a mischievous smile, so promising that, as the warrior watched her turn around and walk away sensuously swaying her hips on her way out, he knew it wouldn’t be long before she’d approach him again.

_He’d been right…_

That night he was awaken by the faint sounds of her small feet on his room’s blue carpet, and once again, she took the initiative by brazenly lifting the bed sheets and getting into bed with him.

He’d been sleeping with his face towards the outside window and felt his body immediately freeze when Bulma, probably believing he was asleep, had simply slid one of her arms underneath his waist, effectively wrapping her arms around him and holding him tight as she buried her cute nose on the back of his neck and pressed her warm form against his.

They stayed that way for a few minutes that seemed like an eternity to Vegeta, and never had the Saiyan Prince felt the internal turmoil he experienced during that time.

Eventually, just as the heiress’ breathing had started to slow down, a sign that she was drifting off, he turned around in one smooth motion, startling the woman, who quickly took her arms away from his body. Before he had time to regret his actions, he grabbed her thin wrists and pinned them above her head, making use of his much-prized control in a colossal effort not to hurt her.

Bulma instinctively wrapped her long legs around his hips, and he felt his cock harden just by the mere proximity of her warmth. For the first time in a very long time, the warrior truly didn’t know what to do, so he simply stared into her eyes again, just as he’d done hours earlier inside his training chamber, until he finally managed to ask the question that would change their lives forever…

“Woman, are you sure this is what you really want?” He whispered against her trembling lips, feeling her warm breath increasingly speed up at his words.

Vegeta had to know, _he needed to know_ , that the woman knew what she was getting herself into by agreeing to share the bed of a killer, and as usual, her reply was just as daring and shameless as the heiress herself…

The little woman simply raised her head and trapped his lower lip between her teeth hard enough to make him feel the taste of copper in his mouth. The unexpected action would have normally infuriated him but, instead, it awakened a primal, animalistic side of him, and no more questions were asked as they both finally gave in to each other’s desires freely.

It had been a memorable night indeed, and when Vegeta finally left his room early in the morning for his daily grueling training session, he took a last lingering look at the sleeping figure of the exhausted woman still laying on his bed, secretly wondering if the heiress would regret her actions after she woke up.

_She didn’t._

Not only that, but from that moment on, Bulma visited his room almost nightly, and much to his shame, the Prince found himself looking forward to their private moments together.

It was during one of those night incursions that the blue haired beauty had brought what she’d called “a little surprise” for him, cheekily forcing the Saiyan to close his eyes and let her have her way with him. After feigning annoyance for a few minutes, he’d finally decided to follow her instructions, secretly curious about her real intentions, only to find his bronzed skin covered by something warm, sticky and sweet-smelling. Before he had time to complain, his mate’s clever little tongue started to work her magic, silencing him for good at first, only to end up making him scream her blasted name as he spilled himself inside her hot wet mouth.  

_That intoxicating little minx and her silly games of pleasure…_

_He’d missed her._

Now, sitting in a dark tiny kitchen in the middle of space, he could acknowledge, once and for all and only to himself, how much he’d missed his little mate.

Both lovers had finished their strawberries by now, and Bulma was innocently toying with the remains of the melted chocolate, sliding one of her dainty index fingers across the small bowl and licking it absentmindedly. This gesture would have normally had a sexual connotation, but the Prince quickly noticed that her pretty face was filled with something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

_Melancholy?_

“That was going to be my first wish, you know?” She finally said, offering him a sad smile.

_Oh, yeah…_

_It was melancholy…_

Vegeta didn’t break his silence, not quite knowing what the beautiful woman was talking about, and he simply raised an eyebrow questioningly, crossing his arms across his chest and laying back on the chair, waiting patiently for the explanation he knew was coming.

“The Dragon Balls…” She further explained. “You know… When I first met Goku…”

The Saiyan’s body instinctively tensed at the sound of his old enemy’s name, but he remained quiet, since he was aware of the fact that the third-class warrior had also been his woman’s best friend. The couple hadn’t really talked about Kakarot ever since he’d sacrificed in vain to save the Earth, but Vegeta could clearly hear the pain in the scientist’s voice as she recalled her adventures with the man she’d often described as her _‘little brother’_ …  

“Goku…” She whispered, almost to herself. “He was always different, even back then… I should have known…” She chuckled sadly.

“What?” He enquired nonchalantly, but secretly still feeling a hint of curiosity about his deceased rival.

“That he was different,” Bulma replied, mildly surprised by Vegeta’s sudden interest in her stories.

“I actually shot him when we first met, can you believe that?”

“Shot?”

“Yeah, with a gun! And nothing! It didn’t hurt him in the least. I should have known back then that he was an alien…”

“How old were you?” He asked again.

“Uh? Um… Sixteen, I think… Yeah, sixteen… And Goku was eleven, even though at first he told me he was fourteen… He was so small in those days…”

The Prince smiled inwardly, trying to picture his woman as a teenage girl holding a weapon and attempting to shoot a Saiyan child. No wonder she hadn’t been able to hurt him, since their skin was much more resilient than that of humans. Still, the woman had always had guts, he gave her that.

“Yeah… He always behaved like an alien, I guess…” She giggled at her own memories. “Did you know he couldn’t even tell if people were male or female?”

Vegeta couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that.

“You can’t be serious…”

Bulma chuckled again.

“I am! You know what he used to do? He used to pat people on the crotch and ask them if they were a boy or a girl…”

She shook her head.

“He even stole my underwear while I was asleep once because he wanted to see if I had balls like his grandfather… You don’t wanna know how I found out he’d taken them…”

The man remained silent, not knowing whether he should be amused at the young boy’s antics or jealous that the clown had seen his woman’s intimate parts even before he had, but Bulma gave him little time to ponder as she kept talking.

“There was no malice in him though… So I couldn’t even get mad at him for too long. He was pretty much the same as he was as an adult…” She said in a voice filled with nostalgia.

“So, he was always an idiot, then…” Vegeta replied maliciously.

“Mmm… I’d say he was naïve… Very naïve… But he was clever when it came to fighting, I guess… It must be that Saiyan blood, uh?”

Vegeta nodded in agreement.

It looked like, in spite of the childhood accident that had drastically changed the personality of the third-class warrior, his Saiyan instincts and thirst for battle had always been present in the child’s life.

“That’s what I thought…” Bulma said after her mate’s gesture confirmed her suspicions regarding Goku’s behavior.

“Anyway… As I was saying, the first thing I wanted to wish with the Dragon Balls was strawberries…”

“Strawberries?” He asked incredulously.

“Yup! All the strawberries I could eat!”

“Woman, you are utterly insane…” He continued, shaking his head in disbelief and making Bulma blush.

“Oh, shush!” She yelled in embarrassment. “I was a kid!”

“Tch! That’s no excuse for having such ridiculous thoughts, woman. Even at that age I would have never wasted a wish on something so ridiculous, especially considering what you were asking for was something you could purchase at any food store.”

“I know… I know…” She said, waving her hand in agreement.

Bulma had to bite her tongue when she felt the strong desire to ask him about what his wish would have been back then, but she also acknowledged she knew nothing about what sixteen-year-old Vegeta was like, and she didn’t feel like opening that can of worms, especially when they were finally having some kind of normal conversation.

The Saiyan and the heiress had certainly conversed in the past, but it was usually about the warrior’s training or during their passionate nights together. Never had they simply just sat in the kitchen sharing old memories, and she didn’t want to ruin such a pleasant moment.

“Like I said, that had been my first choice, but eventually I decided to change it anyway…”

“What did you ask for then, woman?” He asked with interest.

“Well…” Bulma replied, putting her elbow on the table and leaning on it, placing her soft cheek in her hand as she continued her recollection of past events. “I actually never got the chance to ask for anything, because a lot of stuff happened… We met some people that wanted them as well, and… Long story short, Goku ended up transforming into that giant ape form… What’s it called?”

“Oozaru” Vegeta simply answered.

“Yeah… Oozaru… Man! He almost killed us all! Thankfully Yamcha was also there, because we met during that trip, you know? And he managed to cut off Goku’s tail…” Bulma stopped for a few seconds, lost in her own memories…

“So, eventually Oolong was the one that ended up making the wish…”

“Who?” The warrior asked, honestly not knowing who that was.

“One of our friends… The one that looks like a pig, remember?”

Vegeta grunted, quickly recognizing who the heiress was talking about.

“Yeah, so in the end he… You know…” She closed her eyes, and the Prince noticed the hint of a blush adorn her cheeks again.

“What?”

“He asked for some panties,” she finally said in a low voice.

The warrior remained silent, not quite believing his ears.

“Panties.”

“Yeah…”

“Panties?”

“Yup…”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, Vegeta! Panties!” She replied in exasperation and shame. “As in, woman’s underwear, you know…”

Vegeta closed his eyes and shook his head.

_Typical…_

Leave it to a bunch of earthlings to embark on some adventurous hunt in search of the mythical dragon balls only to ultimately make a stupid disgraceful wish with them. As if reading his mind, Bulma giggled and shook her head too.

“I know it was stupid… But looking back, I guess in the end it was a positive experience, because that’s how we all met each other, you know? So, I like to believe that everything happened for a reason…”

The Saiyan just kept staring at her with crossed arms and unfathomable eyes, feeling like he’d just discovered a little piece of his mate’s life he’d never really known before.

_For some unexplainable reason, he wanted more…_

“And then what happened?” He finally asked.

Bulma raised her head and those beautiful blue eyes of hers widened a little in shock. Vegeta had never really showed any kind of interest in her past adventures, and even less in what he called her _‘stupid friends’_ , so she decided to indulge him, without questioning the reasons behind this newfound interest in her.

She offered him a warm smile before she continued her recollection…

“Well, then…”

She talked.

She talked, and talked, and _talked_ as her mate sat on the kitchen chair in front of her, quietly listening to her little stories. She told him about Goku and Krillin, how they met, their training with Roshi… Even though she hadn’t been present throughout many of her old friend’s adventures, Goku had visited her often after she’d gone back to Capsule Corp. to resume her normal life, or at least, what had been normal to a young girl in her position, and he’d always updated her on his latest exploits.

Bulma also shared her own youth struggles with Vegeta. How, when she’d finally decided she wanted to work with his father in the family business, Dr. Briefs had agreed on the condition that she’d first get a formal education, which she’d attempted to achieve with disastrous consequences.

Being perceived as the spoiled, wealthy heiress of an empire had been a burden to the young girl, who had been bullied and rejected by most people her age, and had eventually turned to home schooling, successfully reaching the academic status her father had required from her in less than two years, thus earning the right to finally join the company and get to work in her father’s lab.

Every now and then, Dr. Briefs would grant his adventurous daughter permission to travel with Goku in his crazy escapades, but as the Saiyan child grew stronger, so did his enemies, and Bulma admitted to not feeling safe anymore sometimes during their trips together, leaving the young boy alone throughout most of his battles in the end.

Every now and then, Vegeta would ask her a short question, or would make an insightful comment, and as the hours went by, the warrior was able to finally get a bigger picture on who his woman truly was and how she’d managed to become the extraordinary person she was today.

“So, in the end, you didn’t make your wish…” The Prince finally said, finishing his third cup of tea and placing his now empty mug on the table.

“I guess I didn’t… Although it doesn’t matter anymore, because it came true eventually…” She replied, a mysterious expression gracing her delicate features.

An intrigued Vegeta leaned his elbows on the table, getting closer to his woman, and he couldn’t help but ask his final question.

“What was your wish, woman?”

“I wanted to find the perfect man,” she whispered, almost as if she was sharing the most important and deepest secret in the entire universe. Her words momentarily silenced the Saiyan Prince, until he finally snorted, shaking his head once again.

“Don’t be ridiculous, woman! I may not know much about such matters, but I highly doubt that fool was the perfect man…”

Bulma frowned in confusion, never breaking eye contact with her mate.

“What fool?”

“The weakling! Who else? Seriously, woman, if he was the perfect man why did you end up kicking him out of your life?” He asked arrogantly.

The heiress simply looked at him and smiled softly, quickly correcting his mistake.

“Who said I was talking about Yamcha?”

Her words removed the smugness away from his face faster than the speed of light, and both lovers simply stared at each other: Bulma impatiently awaiting some kind of reaction from her mate and Vegeta completely astonished by the scientist’s revelations.

_The perfect man?_

_Him?_

_She had to be joking!_

Ever since they’d met he’d treated her like shit, at least, by the standards he knew Earth women had regarding their male partners…

He’d been proud and distant, always showing her courtesy, but simply because the woman had served a purpose. She’d given him food and shelter, and provided him with the best training equipment the Prince could have asked for. Still, he could admit to having never offered her any form of romantic affection, even after their private affair, or whatever it was that was going on between them, had started.

He’d given her pleasure, just as much as she’d given him, and yes, the little woman had slowly managed to get under his skin in some ways, but as far as he knew, he’d always kept a cautious distance, constantly working on maintaining those impenetrable walls he’d cleverly crafted around himself through the years.

He’d abandoned her.

_Twice._

The first time, when he’d realized the woman was carrying his child, and the second time after the Cell Games. And now here she was, calling him the _‘perfect man’_ , her face reflecting a confidence that told him she truly believed the words that had just come out of her pretty mouth.

After what felt like an eternity, Vegeta leaned back on the chair, tiredly running his hand through his face and hair several times.

“Bulma…” He finally muttered.

He wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she was absolutely fucking crazy if she thought a bastard like him really was the perfect anything, let alone the perfect man, and yet, as he looked at those spectacular blue eyes, filled with hope and anticipation, he knew if he said any of those things he’d instantly break his woman’s heart…

“It’s been a long day, perhaps we should get some rest,” he said instead.

If he didn’t want to hurt her, he’d just failed miserably, since he immediately saw Bulma’s beautiful face fall into a sad frown.

“Oh… Right…” Bulma mumbled nervously, shyly staring at the floor while she awkwardly stood from the chair and grabbed the empty coffee mugs, placing them in the kitchen sink.

“I’m sorry… You must be tired and I’ve been just babbling all this time…” She said uncomfortably, now walking towards the living area. Before she could get too far, Vegeta held her wrist, kindly but firmly.

“There’s no need to apologize, woman, I’ve quite enjoyed our conversation,” he said in an effort to make the heiress feel better. He had the impression that she was feeling rejected by his reaction to her declaration.

_And he was right._

_Bulma was feeling absolutely mortified…_

_What had she been thinking, saying something like that?_ They’d just been reunited a few days ago and she’d already told him that she loved him and called him her perfect man.

_She truly was pathetic, wasn’t she?_

“Where are the beds, woman?” Vegeta asked, realizing Bulma’s new space ship was quite different from the one he’d used in the past.

“Um… They’re in there,” she said, pointing towards a small corridor to their right. “But I encapsulated a large bed, let me get it…”

The heiress walked to the small couch in front of the television, searching through her capsule belt and grabbing one of the tiny capsules.

“Here,” she continued, offering him the small object, which the Prince quickly took in his hand, pressing the button and throwing it in front of them. A massive king sized bed, very similar to the one Bulma had in her own bedroom back on Earth materialized, and Vegeta simply stood there, not quite knowing what to say or what their sleeping arrangement was supposed to be.

As if reading his thoughts, his mate quickly tried to appease his doubts.

“You can use it if you like, the other beds are really small and with your injury you’ll be more comfortable here…” She said timidly, wrapping her arms around herself nervously.

“You sleep here, woman, I’ll be fine in one of the single beds.”

“Are you sure about that? I don’t mind sleeping in a small bed, really…” She continued in a voice laced with honest concern for him.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Bulma…” He started, but his woman immediately cut him off.

“Alright, suit yourself…” She finally murmured, giving him her back and walking towards the bed, removing her jumper and throwing it on the floor on her way there. Underneath, she was wearing a thin shirt with spaghetti straps, and she didn’t even remove her leggings either, taking off her shoes, crawling on the bed and lifting the covers tiredly, getting inside and turning on her side, giving him her back.

_She’d done enough begging for one day._

Bulma’s exhausted body formed a tiny ball and she closed her eyes, which were now burning with unshed tears. She felt utterly humiliated, as if she’d just spent the past few hours opening her heart like never before, only to have the Saiyan stomp all over it in return, and she wondered once again if perhaps she was simply fooling herself. Maybe her mate had only agreed to take her with him to create the illusion that he’d given their relationship a chance, but in all honesty, it seemed like he’d just said yes to humor her and make her shut up for a while. She decided, right then and there, that she wouldn’t expose her emotions the way she had tonight ever again. Bulma was, after all, a proud woman, and she wasn’t used to putting herself in such emotionally vulnerable situations.

Vegeta, on his part, was battling his own internal conflict one more time.

_What was that damn tightness in his throat all of a sudden?_

The sight of the petite woman, laying dejectedly on the bed, was making him feel like he was the biggest asshole in existence, and he stood there uncertainly with his arms crossed.

A part of him, _a really big part of him_ , felt tempted to simply walk out of there and lock himself inside one of the small rooms until they arrived at their destination, but he knew that was the easy way out, and if he’d learnt something over the past few days, ever since his mate had walked back into his life, was that neither of them was really willing to take the easy route anymore.

He knew how proud the heiress was, and how hard it must have been for her to show him the patience and kindness that she had. The fact that she’d chosen to just sit down with him and talk about her memories and past experiences instead of interrogating him about all the shit he’d been involved in ever since his departure from Earth told him Bulma was definitely becoming a new woman. A more mature, patient and understanding woman.

_Could that mean there was still hope for him too?_

_The hope that he might become a better man?_

_It was highly doubtful_ , but as he finally removed his armor, boots and flying suit and walked towards the bed, sinking one of his strong knees into the large mattress, the Prince told himself that the only thing that could get hurt by trying to imitate the woman’s new behavior was his pride, but, hadn’t she humbled herself enough for him already?

He sighed wearily and laid on the bed, and instead of adopting his usual sleeping posture, which consisted on sleeping on his back with his arms crossed behind his neck, her rolled on his side, facing his little mate’s body and stretching one of his arms, placing it on top of the large pillow.

Bulma remained silent for a few minutes, her heart in her throat at the feeling of Vegeta’s heavy body laying on the bed behind her. His actions went against everything she’d grown to expect from him. She was so used to seeing him walk away and disappear every single time he’d been faced with the possibility of having to express any kind of emotion or intimacy other than sex that, for an instant, she truly didn’t know how to react.

_‘Have courage, Bulma…’_

Finally, after taking a deep breath she slowly turned around, bravely facing the warrior and discovering his surprisingly new sleeping posture, knowing full well that this wasn’t the way her mate usually rested at night. What was even more shocking was the way he was staring at her with those dark, penetrating, unblinking eyes…

After a few moments, she boldly stretched her fragile hand and placed it over his, letting go of the breath she didn’t know she was holding when Vegeta, _her Vegeta_ , immediately squeezed her hand back.

The heiress kept looking at him, his handsome, chiseled features only illuminated by the dim light coming from the kitchenette, and despite the foreign nature of the moment both lovers were sharing, she finally managed to smile sweetly at him, deeply grateful by the immense effort she knew he was making.

He didn’t smile back, but the fact that he kept firmly holding her hand encouraged her to make her next move, carefully placing that strong, warm hand on her creamy hip, and getting closer to him, until her tiny form was firmly pressed against his muscular one.

Bulma felt the Prince’s throat bob nervously against her brow, bringing her a fleeting sense of insecurity.

_‘Had she overstepped his boundaries, after all?’_

Her fears dissipated when Vegeta finally wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her body even closer and sharing his warmth with her. His mate’s soft breath against his skin and the way her delicate body finally relaxed in his embrace made him experience a strange kind of pride; he then closed his eyes and buried his nose in her silky, feathery hair, feeling the calmness that the woman’s presence had brought back into his life wash all over him.

Bulma finally closed her eyes as well, giving in to her tiredness.

“Goodnight, Vegeta…” She whispered.

He didn’t immediately reply, basking in these newfound emotions for a while, completely fascinated by them.

The past twenty-four hours had certainly been an emotional roller coaster for the couple, but somehow, they’d made it.

_Together._

Vegeta noticed his ribs barely hurt anymore, and he was laying on a warm, comfortable bed with a stomach full of delicious food and the most special woman he’d ever met sound asleep, snuggling cozily in his arms.

He still had no idea what it was that his mate wanted from him and whether or not he’d be able to give it to her in the future, but he chose to put his doubts and insecurities aside, smiling against her hair and murmuring…

“Goodnight, woman…”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm...
> 
> It looks like Vegeta is finally getting closer to Bulma...
> 
> In the next chapter, the couple will continue their trip and Bulma will discover a couple of things she didn't know about Vegeta...


	20. A Very Sexy Workout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta wakes up and finds Bulma performing a type of exercise he's never witnessed before.
> 
> Will that visual awake something in him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm back!
> 
> And, as usual, my chapters are getting too long, so I've decided to split this one in half. 
> 
> As a result, you're about to read probably the fluffiest chapter I've written so far in this story.
> 
> I hope you like it!

Vegeta woke up several hours later only to find himself alone and disoriented on an empty bed. He yawned, frowning in confusion, quickly sitting up and scratching the back of his head distractedly as he looked around looking for his mate. It didn’t take long to find her, and when he finally did, his eyes widened in shock at the sight he encountered…

There she was.

In front of the large TV placed in the small living room on the other side of the ship.

Bending over on all fours on top of a thin pink mat with her cute little ass up in the air.

_‘What the actual fuck?’_

He finally left the massive bed, looking through the bundle of clothes he’d dropped on the floor the previous night. He grabbed the pants of his flying suit and clumsily put them on, still incapable of taking his starving eyes away from the woman and her bizarre activities, and feeling a strange but very familiar sensation in the pit of his stomach.

_Desire…_

Vegeta crossed his arms defensively, mentally preparing himself to deal with his mate once again as he walked towards her.

He truly couldn’t recall having experienced the confusion and agitation he’d gone through ever since the beautiful woman had reentered his life, turning his world upside down once again. When the warrior had abandoned the Earth, he’d positively thought himself dead inside, masochistically basking in that old familiar state of detachment he knew oh so well. That emotional impassiveness had allowed him to survive this long in a world that had been, as far as he could remember, cold and unfriendly, a universe whose brutality had forged him into the ruthless bastard he now knew himself to be.

Even though Bulma had managed to open his eyes to a life of countless pleasurable experiences, his defeat after the Cell Games had changed him irreparably once again, numbing his mind and body from every good thing his mate had to offer.

Numbness, his lifetime close companion, was good, it meant control, it meant being able to distance himself from a puzzling situation and dissect it from a different, analytical perspective.

During Vegeta’s last night on the blue planet, when he’d humbled himself in front of her, he’d held her naked body all night long, right until dawn, and even though he hadn’t been stupid enough to ignore her ethereal, almost other worldly beauty, his emotions as he’d pressed her nude form against him had been almost pure, inundated by an indescribable sadness he hadn’t really experienced in the past, not since his last few emotional attachments had been destroyed, together with his family, his planet and his race.     

Bulma’s return had enraged and concerned him but, somehow, his old carnal desires towards her had been inexplicably kept at bay…

_Until now._

Whether it had to do with the fact that he’d gradually been able to relax in her presence one more time, or perhaps due to the friendly, almost intimate conversation they’d held right before they’d finally gone to bed, he didn’t know. All he knew was that, looking at her supple body, all tight little curves and ivory skin, was making him want to rip off her skimpy clothing and have his way with her.

_Right._

_Fucking._

_Now._

The woman was making him _feel,_ and he’d be damned if he allowed himself to lose his much-prized legendary control and give in to his preposterously shameful desires. It would only complicate things, intensifying their already unusually solid bond, and that was the last thing they needed under their current circumstances.

Vegeta kept walking towards her spot until he stood right behind her, and it quickly became apparent to him that Bulma hadn’t even noticed his company yet. His mischievous mind briefly contemplated not letting his presence be known and enjoy the show just a little longer, but eventually, the few glimmers of rationality left in him warned him against such a dangerous idea, so he uncomfortably cleared his throat and finally asked…

“Woman, what the Hell are you doing?”  

Bulma didn’t even flinch at the sound of his voice, making him secretly wonder whether she’d actually already known he’d woken up.

“The down dog,” she simply replied, her eyes still focused on the very chatty blonde instructor on the television.

“The down dog…” He muttered questioningly.

“Yup.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“Ah, right…” She said, quickly realizing the Saiyan probably had no idea what yoga was. “It’s an asana, I’m doing yoga.”

The warrior remained silent, waiting arm-crossed for a further explanation on the matter, and inadvertently licking his now very dry lips at the sight of his little mate, slowly kneeling on the pink mat and laying on her stomach. She then raised her upper body, giving him a very generous view of her voluptuous breasts in the process.

“This one is called the cobra,” she explained again, tilting her head back and holding the position.

Vegeta kept watching, completely fascinated by her actions. He wasn’t entirely sure what this _yoga_ business was all about, but he guessed it had to do with balance and flexibility, at the very least. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen Bulma working out either, since he could clearly recall catching glimpses of her, here and there, running through the Capsule Corp. compound, prancing around in sexy shorts and a wide variety of very suggestive sport bras, very similar to the one she was currently wearing. She had been as tempting back then as she was right now, and the Saiyan could only stand still, digging his fingers into his forearms in an effort to calm himself down until his woman was done with whatever it was she was doing.

Four asanas later, Bulma finally stood up slowly, now angrily talking to herself.

“Yeah, right…” She mumbled as she walked to the side of the TV and grabbed the remote control.

The annoyingly loquacious blonde kept babbling on screen.

_“See? It’s very easy! Just take a deep breath and…”_

“I don’t think so, yoga lady…” Bulma said, switching off the television and sitting on the couch, where she put on some tiny cotton socks as she muttered... “Very easy, my ass…”   

Vegeta couldn’t help but chuckle at that. She really looked so damn adorable when she was fuming and pouting about not being able to follow the crazy teacher’s directions. The unusual sound made Bulma turn to him.

“Oh? You’re still here?” She asked, smiling at him and looking absolutely delicious with her slightly sweaty shimmering skin and rosy flushed cheeks. He just stared at her uncomfortably, not quite knowing what to say. It seemed pretty obvious by now that the awkward situation they’d gone through the previous night was long forgotten.

“I’m hungry,” he finally replied, feigning indifference.

Her smile widened at his words.

“Of course you are… I’ll make us some breakfast,” she continued, standing from the couch and walking to the kitchenette, with a now increasingly aroused Saiyan following closely behind, unable to stop staring at the pert little bottom swaying temptingly right before his eyes.

“Take a sit, Your Highness…” Bulma said playfully, opening the large fridge and looking inside while Vegeta followed her orders, praying to whatever lenient Gods could hear him that his body wouldn’t betray his longing for this woman…

“Fruit, eggs and bacon?” She asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

He simply grunted, and she smirked, knowing that in Vegeta-talk that meant his greedy appetite wanted _all of it_.

“Alright… You can start with the fruit while I cook the rest…” Bulma continued, grabbing a large colander, filling it up with an assortment of fresh fruits and washing them thoroughly in the sink before serving them to her mate on the table.

“Coffee?”

“Sure,” he grumbled, already attacking the highly appetizing fruits. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t missed the strange black concoction, both bitter and comforting at once and, so unusual, he’d never tasted anything like it in all his voyages.

Vegeta focused on his meal while the mouthwatering smell of scrambled eggs and bacon filled the small kitchen. Seeing Bulma cooking was a rare sight, given that the heiress usually relied on the chef bots to do all the cooking. However, she seemed to be in good spirits, humming a little song and moving through the kitchenette with practiced ease.

Every now and then, the warrior couldn’t help but steal a glance at his mate, whose soft creamy skin was still lightly covered by a hint of perspiration. He knew most humans would find this view unattractive, and even unhygienic, but the wild Saiyan beast inside of him was secretly going mad by her delectable scent, warm, sweet and salty, and as time went by, it was getting harder and harder to keep his hands to himself.

“There you go…” Bulma said cheerfully, gently placing two large plates of scrambled eggs and bacon right in front of him and removing his now empty fruit dish. After also offering him coffee, two large bottles of orange juice, two more of milk and quite a few slices of toasted bread, she simply sat beside him with her own small breakfast, which she proceeded to devour immediately, stealing a knowing smirk from Vegeta’s lips.

“You seem to have worked up quite an appetite, woman,” he said, hoping that some small talk would keep the woman happy and take his mind off his still very intense yearning towards her.

“Mmm… I guess…” She replied distractedly, voraciously smashing her food.

“I’d never seen you perform those exercises before,” he continued after a brief moment of silence.

“Yoga? Yeah… I actually got into it when I got pregnant with Trunks…” She said, taking a large gulp of her own glass of orange juice.

Vegeta couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that.

“You performed those movements during your pregnancy?” He inquired again, unable to hide the shock and concern from his voice.

Bulma looked at him, and she soon remembered Vegeta hadn’t been by her side throughout her entire pregnancy, only returning to Earth when she was about eight months pregnant and ready to pop.

“Well, not towards the end, of course… I did a milder version of it and only for the first few months. I guess I wanted to stay active without doing the same kind of high impact workouts I used to do before,” she explained patiently.

The warrior carefully listened to his woman’s words as he kept inhaling his breakfast, and he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of guilt about the fact that he hadn’t really been around while Bulma was carrying his son. He hadn’t even asked her about what the entire experience had been like, but now he could tell that the little genius had certainly been taking care of her and their child’s health. Why she’d chosen to keep the child of a killer remained a mystery to him, but he didn’t dare ask in case he only made things worse somehow.

“So, now that the child has already been born, why haven’t you gone back to the types of exercises you used to do before?” He finally asked again.

The woman kept staring at him, slightly confused about the amount of attention Vegeta was paying to her and her health struggles, so she decided to keep indulging him, giving answer to his many doubts.

“Trunks’ delivery was really hard on my body. The doctors wouldn’t even let me move around too much for the first couple of months, so when I was finally allowed to exercise again, I chose to do something moderate at first before I could go back to my old routine.”

Vegeta stopped chewing at her words, swallowing with difficulty.

_So, that’s what it was…_

Unbeknownst to Bulma and her family, the warrior had actually been present during his child’s delivery, as much as standing arm-crossed on one side of the balcony of the future mother’s hospital room could be called ‘ _being present’_. He’d felt her weak ki fluctuate for what felt like interminable hours as she struggled to bring their son into this world, and he’d come dangerously close on more than one occasion to simply burst into the room and force those damned doctors to remove the blasted child from his mate’s body.

After the birth, he hadn’t paid much attention to Bulma or Trunks, choosing to spend every last minute available, before those obscure androids would show up, locked inside the gravity room. He’d known though, that his woman hadn’t come out of her room, where she’d also placed the boy’s crib, very often, but he hadn’t really considered how much of a toll Trunks’ birth had taken on her body, even months after the event itself.

Bulma, once more, seemed to be able to read him like an open book, and could surprisingly notice a hint of apprehension in her mate’s face, so she smiled warmly at him.

“It’s okay though, I’m fine now,” she said in an effort to appease him.

Vegeta grumbled, unconvinced.

“I told you to have the damn brat removed from your body as soon as possible, did I not?”   

“Yes,” she replied calmly. “And I told you I didn’t want to risk our child’s life unnecessarily. I thought we’d already gone through this.”

“The boy was Saiyan, woman. He would have been perfectly fine.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I didn’t wanna risk it, that’s all.” The heiress continued, suddenly feeling a very familiar sense of déjà vu. They’d already had this conversation a million times before.

The Saiyan closed his eyes, putting his fork down and exhaling loudly through his nose.

“He could have killed you, Bulma,” he said looking into her bright blue eyes with an unusually calm intensity that made her furiously blush immediately, something that wasn’t lost on Vegeta.

“Well, he didn’t,” she finally said. “I always knew that Trunks and I would be fine.”

The Saiyan kept staring at her, now frowning in confusion.

“And how the Hell could you have possibly known that, woman?” He asked sharply.

Unable to withstand the ferocity of those dark eyes, Bulma shrugged shyly and turned her eyes back to her almost finished meal.

“I don’t know…” She murmured. “I just did…”

Not really knowing whether the woman had had a sixth sense or whether she’d simply turned out to be the luckiest human female on Earth, the Saiyan finally imitated her actions, turning his attention back to his copious breakfast as they both continued eating in silence.

Once she was done with her scrambled eggs, Bulma finished her juice and stood up, removing her plate, glass and utensils from the table and placing them in the kitchen sink.

“Do you mind if I take a shower while you finish or would you like to go first?” She kindly asked.

He grunted, polishing his second bottle of milk.

“Go shower, woman. I’ll wait,” he replied, never taking his eyes off the table and inwardly thanking the Gods that his mate was finally going to wash off that powerfully tantalizing scent of her body.

“Alright…” She said, already walking out of the kitchenette. She stopped all of a sudden, turning back to him before she enquired in an almost pleading manner...

“Will you let me take a look at your wounds after you take your shower?”

Vegeta sighed in frustration, nervous at the thought of feeling the woman’s hands on his skin when he was in this condition, but knowing that if he said no he’d never hear the end of it and his mate’s worries wouldn’t go away.

“Yes, woman. Now go shower and let me finish my food in peace,” he mumbled, chewing on a piece of bacon a bit harder than usual.

_‘Please, go away…’_

“Great!” She said again, offering him one of those unnervingly kindhearted smiles of hers before she finally disappeared, entering the bathroom and closing the door behind her.

Vegeta sighed in relief, standing up from his chair and reaching for the coffee jar, pouring himself another cup of the warm beverage and dreading the moment his little temptress would walk out of the bathroom, torturing him with her alluring presence one more time.

He could almost picture her in the shower, standing underneath the hot spray, rivulets of water running across her skin, which he knew, due to the few moments he’d been able to hold her in these past couple of days, was as smooth and silky as ever.

The Saiyan couldn’t help but wonder if she was thinking of him right now.

He recalled his little minx’s stories whenever he came back to Capsule Corp. after having spent a few days here and there in complete isolation, away from everything and everyone. She’d press her delicious body against his, holding him tight and whispering indecent stories in his ear. Naughty tales describing, in great detail, what lonely human females did when their men were away from home, _home, she’d said_ , and they had to resort to using their small hands and wicked imagination to pleasure themselves in their absence, trying to put down the fire their mate’s loss had ignited. Of course, she’d promised, it was never as satisfying as the touch of a man’s hands, and, by the time she was done with her vivid descriptions, the Prince was always more than ready to prove to his woman that no one in the entire universe could pleasure her as he could.

_Or so he’d secretly hoped…_

He’d always known that those moments were probably very well-crafted fabrications Bulma would make up just to turn him on, something she could achieve, to his shame, every single time without fail, and yet, the image of this beautiful woman missing him, _needing him_ , was oddly much more comforting than he dared to admit, and he privately hoped she’d truly felt his absence whenever he’d been away from her.

Vegeta took another sip of his comforting drink, closing his eyes and enjoying the soothing sounds of the running water in the next room. At some point, he must have dozed off a little, since he awoke startled to the sound of Bulma’s voice.

“I’m done!” She yelled. “You can go now if you like!”

He didn’t reply, sitting still in his chair as he listened to the faint sounds of his mate’s bare feet on the ship’s metallic floors. Once he finally heard the door of one of the small cabins close behind her, he got up and walked to the bathroom.

The tiny space was now filled with steam, and the so very familiar scents of Bulma and her favorite soaps and shampoos lingered heavily in the suffocating air.

Just as he was about to take off his pants, he noticed there were no more clean towels available.  

_‘Fucking great…’_

He left the room, looking through the closets of the two small empty cabins near the one where he felt Bulma’s presence.

Nothing.

_Now he had to ask the woman…_

He knocked at the door, waiting patiently outside for an invitation.

“Yes?” A curious voice enquired.

“Woman, there are no towels in the bathroom,” he asked uneasily.

“Ah… Right… Come in!”

Vegeta finally opened the door, and his eyes widened almost comically when he took a look at what awaited him behind it.

Bulma was sitting on the single-sized bed, clad only in a black lacy bra and matching panties, her bountiful pale breasts almost spilling out of her very raunchy lingerie. She was holding a bottle of vanilla-scented lotion in one hand, rubbing it on one of her lovely long legs distractedly with the other one.

“There are clean towels in that closet,” she said, pointing with her head towards a small door in the corner, her eyes never leaving her own body.

The Saiyan just stood there with both arms hanging uncomfortably at his sides. He could feel his face burning and a muscle in his left cheek twitching nervously. Bulma seemed to be so at ease, so comfortable, not only in her own skin, but she appeared to show no qualms about being semi-naked right in front of him either. After a couple of minutes of awkward silence, she finally looked at him, blinking with interest.

“What’s the matter?”

Vegeta huffed, crossing his arms defensively and looking to the side.

“You’re indecent, woman. _That’s the matter_ ,” he said angrily.

The heiress just stared at him for a second, noticing the hint of a blush on the Prince’s bronzed cheeks before she rolled her eyes playfully at him.

“Really, Vegeta? Are we going to pretend we’ve never seen each other naked?”

The warrior closed his eyes, muttering something unintelligible about _shameless human women_ under his breath.

Bulma shrugged, simulating indifference but, deep down, finding the whole situation completely and absolutely hilarious.

“I mean… We’ve even done naughty things together, Vegeta…” She went on, teasing him mercilessly as she wiggled her eyebrows at him.

_That did it._

Vegeta groaned, stomping towards the closet and aggressively grabbing a towel, trying to ignore the way Bulma kept running her hands all over those perfect curves of hers while she rubbed her body lotion.

“Veeeeery naughty things, Vegeta… Remember that time when…?”

Before she could finish her sentence the incensed Saiyan made his escape, slamming the door behind him before his genius mate could see the now very suspicious bulge protruding from his increasingly tight pants. He locked the bathroom door behind him and undressed angrily, getting in the shower, turning up the temperature and standing underneath the scalding spray of water, allowing it to run though his body as he pressed his head against the cold shower tiles, hissing through his nose.

Vegeta grabbed a bar of soap and a washing cloth, but just as he was about to lather it up, he brought it close to his nose, sniffing it suspiciously and tossing it immediately as if it were poisoned as soon as he detected Bulma’s potent scent still all over it.

_‘Fantastic…’_

Not only did it look like he couldn’t elude the woman’s presence in his life, he wasn’t even sure anymore that he’d ever really want to anyway.

He chose to lather up his hands instead, slowly soaping up his still sore muscles, unable to ignore the painful erection that now throbbed between his strong thighs and briefly wondering what he should do about it.

A part of him was truly shocked about the fact that, after having spent less than forty-eight hours together in a closed space with Bulma, the woman had been able to set his body on fire with such ease. After all, he’d suffered from a complete lack of sexual desire ever since before he’d abandoned the Earth, with the very few exceptions of the small number of dreams where his stunning mate had been the main protagonist, and most of them hadn’t even been of a sexual nature anyway.

After a few excruciatingly long minutes, where Vegeta fought his own internal battle, the Saiyan finally sighed in defeat, tilting his head back under the water and running his hands through his wild mane before he finally decided to give in to his carnal urges.

He wrapped his rough fingers around his thick shaft, lazily stroking it up and down as he closed his eyes and thought of his delicate woman. He kept telling himself that he should be proud, proud of having been able to resist his impulses around his little enchantress, running around in her skimpy yoga outfits and sexy lingerie, unknowingly seducing him with her enticing feminine charms, and yet, as his hand increased his pace and he felt his climax approach, all he could feel was shame, the shame of not being brave enough to give his woman and their relationship a real chance.

Vegeta let out a ragged breath when he finally spilt himself in his hand, his legs trembling by the force of his orgasm. He squeezed his eyes shut, slowing down his movements in an effort to languidly prolong his pleasure, gradually coming down from his high. He pressed his other hand on the white tiles, with such force that he felt them crack slightly by the pressure of the colossal strength of his fingertips.

He suddenly heard the faint sounds of Bulma walking around outside, probably cleaning up in the kitchen and, hopefully, finally dressed. Her near presence brought him back to reality one more time.

_He truly was pathetic, wasn’t he?_

Vegeta, Prince of All Saiyans, newly self-proclaimed Evil Overlord of All the Galaxies, had just jerked off in the shower.

_Alone._

While the most dazzling creature he’d ever come across had been primping and pampering herself in the room next door.  

A few minutes later, he finally proceeded to clean himself up once again, wondering what Bulma was thinking of in this very moment about their previous moment together. Had she spotted his desire towards her? She’d certainly been utterly lively and coquettish when she’d dealt with him, playfully teasing him, almost mocking him about his sudden prudish attitude towards her almost nude body.          

He pressed his forearm against the tiles, leaning his head into it and hoping he hadn’t made things more awkward than they’d already been in the past.

What Vegeta didn’t know was that, in that very moment, inside the kitchen, a very happy Bulma was filling the dishwasher, absolutely beaming as the images of a very flustered and clearly aroused Saiyan Prince run through her head, over and over again.

_Was it possible that he still wanted her? That he still felt desire towards her?_

Bulma finally exited the kitchen and sat on the couch, curling up and holding a large fluffy cushion against her chest while she patiently waited for her mate to finish his shower.

She smiled dreamily, looking like the cat that got the cream.

_Maybe there was still hope for them after all…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It seems Vegeta's old feelings are coming back in full force.
> 
> I know I promised you some revelations in this chapter, but this one got too long and I guarantee you'll get them in the next!
> 
> Brace yourselves for a very intense next chapter...


	21. A Step Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta continue their journey together and a few secrets are revealed...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm back!
> 
> I'm sorry this update has taken me so long, but basically this is the longest chapter I have ever written, there's a LOT going on in it and I didn't feel like I could split it up.
> 
> I hope you guys like it!

_You're neither._

_You're an errand boy,_

_sent by grocery clerks,_

_to_ _collect a bill._

[Colonel Kurtz; “Apocalypse Now”]

 

 

Bulma blew softly on her freshly painted toenails.

After having spent quite a few minutes waiting for Vegeta to finish his shower, she’d finally decided to make herself busy so she wouldn’t look too desperate for his attentions when he’d eventually leave the bathroom.

Her mind was racing at a million miles per hour, not really knowing what her next step should be. Right now, she wanted nothing more in this world than to finally close that final gap her mate seemed to have breached between them and take the next natural step to deepen their relationship. And yet she knew, in her heart, it was probably still too soon to simply throw herself in Vegeta’s arms and give in to her desire.

It’d only been a few days ever since they’d been reunited, and not only was the warrior not fully like his old self yet, but Bulma wasn’t even sure what his intentions truly were and whether or not he wanted a relationship with her. For all she knew, he hadn’t even made the decision to give her and Trunks a chance and come back home to them yet.

When she’d witnessed his very obvious erection back in the minuscule cabin, she’d felt absolutely ecstatic for many reasons. First, because it flattered her ego to know the Saiyan still found her desirable, something she’d been feeling quite insecure about, especially ever since she’d given birth to their child. And second, because she thought it was a good sign that the warrior, or at the very least his body, was finally reacting to an outside stimulus other than war and destruction.

The old Bulma, the coquettish Capsule Corp. heiress that had once thought herself completely irresistible and unstoppable, would have decided to use all her womanly charms in order to further tempt and seduce her Prince, but her current situation with Vegeta was quite a different game altogether, and she knew if she came on to him too aggressively, she’d probably scare him off. It would be such a shame, she thought, given the enormous progress they’d made in such a short amount of time.

So, the new somewhat more mature and humble Bulma Briefs chose, once again, to take it easy, slow things down and allow their relationship to blossom at its own natural pace. What pace that was, she really didn’t know. After all, her relationship with Vegeta had always been anything but ordinary, and their unusually strong personalities and the undeniable chemistry that had at all times existed between them, had made it impossible for them to keep their hands off each other for too long.

After the first few interminable minutes of waiting on the couch, Bulma chose to simply turn on the television and watch a documentary while she painted her toenails, thus keeping herself distracted and not looking too eager when she’d finally have to face her mate again. Just as she was about to finish applying the second coat, the distinct noise of the bathroom door opening let her know it was time for round two.

She tried to play it cool, even though she couldn’t help but feel her heart beating faster and a nervous knot forming in her stomach. Bulma took a deep breath, her eyes still fixated on the task at hand, blowing on her nails for a second time.

When she finally managed to compose herself, she turned around towards Vegeta, and one single look at him told her she’d undoubtedly made the right choice.

_He looked unwell._

There he stood; his naked form dressed only in the medium-sized bath towel wrapped around his waist. The sight of that perfect body, muscular, deliciously compact and proudly marred by battle scars, had always been enough to drive her crazy, and yet, Bulma could immediately tell something was off.

Vegeta looked tense, clutching his towel so tightly his knuckles were almost white. And what was even worse, the heiress could clearly read the nervousness and apprehension present on his handsome face, despite his flawlessly crafted mask of stoicism.

Bulma smiled sweetly at him, silently cursing herself for having teased him so shamelessly before, and quickly realizing, much to her disappointment, the Saiyan was not ready for an intimate physical relationship just yet. Rapidly, her ingenious mind tried to find a way to make things a bit less awkward and force her mate to forget about how she’d clearly noticed the physical evidence of his desire for her just minutes earlier.

“Hey…” She said softly with a kind, almost naïve smile on her face. “Did you enjoy your shower? Was there enough hot water left for you?”

The Prince raised his eyebrows almost imperceptibly, seemingly shocked by his woman not ridiculing him anymore about his previous shameful situation, and nodded affirmatively.

“I have no clothes to wear, woman,” he finally announced.

“Oh… Right…”

Bulma knew it was a silent request since, before they’d abandoned Planet Z365, she’d told Vegeta there was no need for him to pack anything because she’d brought him lots of clothes from Earth in one of her capsules, including several new sets of armor she’d designed and fabricated exclusively for him during his absence.

“I can give them to you now if you like, I just thought you’d let me take a look at your wounds first, just like you promised,” she replied in a quiet voice full of hope.

The Saiyan remained silent for a moment. Every fiber of his being wanted to take his damn clothes, get dressed and lock himself up in one of the ship’s cabins until they reached their destination. He was still filled with shame, both at his body’s betrayal of his urges and about the fact that he’d eventually had to masturbate all alone in the shower in order to release all that pent-up tension. But Bulma was right, he _had_ promised her to allow her to tend to his wounds, and a Saiyan warrior always kept his word, no matter how insignificant the matter was, so he finally nodded once again and, when he did, he couldn’t help but notice his mate’s face illuminating, her smile widening.

“Great!” She replied gleefully. “Would you rather do it here or on the bed?”

Vegeta unconsciously clutched his towel a little tighter, feeling a sudden wave of vulnerability take hold of him. After brief consideration, he decided he’d probably feel safer sitting on the sofa. Lying on a bed with Bulma next to him would almost certainly bring him memories he didn’t need to recall, especially now that he was still trying to avoid any physical contact with her. He slowly walked towards her, feigning as much confidence as possible, telling himself, over and over again that, now that he’d given his body a much-needed release, he’d be fine when he finally felt his mate’s hands on him.

_He was wrong._

As soon as Bulma brought the first aid kit from the bathroom and knelt right in front of him, he knew he was about to be exposed to another round of torture.

“Alright, let me take a look at this…” She said, frowning in concentration and inspecting the left side of his thorax with clinical eyes.

“Okay… Does it hurt when I press here?” She asked softly, gently applying pressure over his ribs.

“No.”

“Mmm… This is looking good… Really good, actually…” She raised her eyes to him and gave him another one of her bright smiles. “I’m impressed! You Saiyans are truly amazing. This was looking so ugly just a couple of days ago…”

Vegeta said nothing in return, waiting patiently as his woman run her dainty little fingers across his skin. He couldn’t help but remember the first time she’d showed up in his room in the middle of the night, back at Capsule Corp., when she’d tried to tend to his wounds for the first time and he’d furiously refused until, finally, after the scientist had almost begged him to let her do so, he’d caved in. He’d never been touched in such a kind, gentle manner, always used to being hit, punched, blasted and kicked, and he hadn’t really known what to make of her actions back then. In a way, he still didn’t, but the amount of generosity and compassion his mate had always offered him never ceased to amaze him.

He kept looking at her, hypnotized by her glossy turquoise hair, still slightly damp from her shower, her fresh clean scent, those bright blue eyes filled with concern and those kissable lips she was biting in concentration as she inspected his body.

“Well… I think your ribs’ fractures have almost healed, and some of the stitches have already fallen out. I could remove the rest, but I’d say we should give it another day, what do you think?” She asked, looking at him questioningly.

He grunted, not wanting to argue with her. The truth was he didn’t care; he just wanted her to stop touching him as soon as possible. Her touch was bringing him dangerously close to the edge one more time, and he really didn’t feel like dealing with another embarrassing situation any time soon.

“Alright then… Let me give you another antibiotic shot, just to be on the safe side,” she continued, already filling a needle with the contents of a minute vial. She then soaked a cotton bud in disinfectant solution and rubbed it all over his wound.

“This might hurt,” she warned, practically whispering.

He almost wanted to laugh at that. Did Bulma still really think something as insignificant as that could hurt him? But he remained silent, allowing her to do as she wished with him.

“Perfect!” She said cheerfully, rubbing the cotton bud one more time before discarding it. “I’ll just apply some anti-inflammatory ointment, I’ll cover it with some gauze and then I’ll stop bothering you.”

_Stop bothering him?_

He highly doubted that was possible, not when she was about to massage than damn cream on his skin. In an effort to block her actions, he chose to focus his attention on the television, where some lizard-like creatures seemed to be lazily soaking up under the sun by the beach.

Vegeta’s abdomen twitched as soon as Bulma’s hands were back on him, carefully massaging the ointment in small circular motions for a few minutes, which felt like interminable hours, until it was completely absorbed. The warrior just kept staring at the documentary, trying to ignore the warmth of his woman’s delicate touch.

“Done!” She said triumphantly after applying the cream and covering his wound with some clean gauze. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

He shook his head, still avoiding her gaze and making the heiress feel a tad hurt.

_Was he choosing to ignore her all of a sudden?_

“Okay, well… Let me wash my hands and I’ll give you the capsule with your clothes.”

Bulma walked into the bathroom, thoroughly washing the remains of the sticky cream off her hands, unable to avoid the anxiety Vegeta’s new indifferent behavior was making her experience. She then walked to the kitchen, grabbing her red belt from one of the small drawers and quickly finding the capsule she was looking for.

“There you go,” she said, standing once again in front of him and offering him the small object.

To her surprise, the warrior seemed to be now genuinely interested in the images on the television.

“Woman, what exactly am I watching here?” He asked with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“Uh? Um, it’s a documentary…”

Bulma squinted a little. It was unlike Vegeta to be interested in anything playing on TV, which back on Earth he’d used to call _‘a complete and utter waste of time’_.

She sat down on the couch near him, raising her legs and putting them on top of the coffee table, wiggling her freshly varnished little toes.

“You like it?” She asked, looking at him with a hopeful smile on her luminous face. “It’s called _‘Pink Temptation’._ ”

He looked at her face, then at her tiny feet and then back at her, absolutely puzzled about what it was the damned woman was talking about now.

“The color! Silly! Do you like it?” She enquired again, stretching one of her legs and wiggling the little toes once more, making him frown in return.

“What is the purpose of it?” He finally questioned.

“Of what? Of painting my nails?”

He grunted.

“No reason… It’s just pretty, I guess…” She replied, both a bit disappointed and amused about the fact that such things were completely lost on the Saiyan warrior.

Vegeta finally took a good look at the earthling, taking in the sight of her…

She was wearing long blue leggings and a pink sweatshirt with long sleeves but short enough to give him a glimpse of her toned midriff. The neckline was so ample it left one of her milky shoulders uncovered, exposing the strap of that black lacy bra he knew oh, so well by now. Even though she was casually dressed, she still looked good enough to eat, and if she kept wiggling those pink little toes at him for too long he was going to end up putting them in his mouth and licking every single inch of that gorgeous body.

_He had to get out._

_Now._

He extended his hand, silently asking for the capsule she was still holding in her hand, a sign Bulma quickly understood.

“Oh, right… There you go,” she said, handing him the small object, her soft fingertips grazing the calloused palm of his hand.

Vegeta got up and walked towards one of the rooms without looking back.

“Let me know if you need anything else!” Bulma yelled out from the living room, right before he closed the door of the small cabin without bothering to give her a reply.

Once he opened the capsule, revealing its contents on the bed, it became quite clear it would be impossible for him to ever need anything else. Bulma had packed several suitcases for him, all clothes neatly folded, labeled and with the price tags still on them.

_She’d bought brand new clothes just for him._

Vegeta reticently run his hands across the surface of all the impeccably packed garments, most of them in his favorite colors: blue, grey, black and white, and he smirked at the memory of the hideously ridiculous pink shirt and yellow pants she’d forced him to wear when he’d returned to Earth, after having spent some time looking for Kakarot in space.

_How different his life would be if he hadn’t come back to Bulma’s planet at all…_

He finally chose a black sleeveless t-shirt, a navy-blue sweatshirt and some grey sweatpants, marveling at how soft the inside of the clothing was, and he just put on some thick cotton socks, not feeling like wearing any shoes at the moment.

The warrior couldn’t help but take a closer look at the shiny new set of armor his mate had made for him, grabbing it with one hand and punching it with the other.

The material didn’t even crack a bit.

He punched it again, harder this time.

_Nothing._

“Impressive…” He murmured to himself, quickly noticing the woman had really outdone herself this time. It wasn’t the first time she’d made armor for him, but her designs seemed to improve every single time she attempted to create something new.

This also made him realize something else: if Bulma had been working on fabricating something for him, this meant she’d expected him to return to her at some point in the future.

Had she truly counted on him coming back to Earth for sure? Or would she have eventually moved on after she’d finally understood he was gone for good?

The Saiyan felt a lump in his throat at the thought of Bulma waiting indefinitely for his arrival, and briefly wondered what had finally made her have the guts to simply get into her ship and go looking for him across the Universe.

He had no answer to that question, so he let go of the armor he’d been holding in his hands all this time without realizing it as he’d been lost in thought and he gently placed it on the bed, finally leaving the room after calming himself down a bit and joining his woman in the living area.

Bulma was just where he’d left her, now sitting cross-legged on the same spot on the sofa, holding a cushion against her chest and leaning her chin on it, avidly watching her documentary with interested eyes. When she finally noticed his presence, she looked at him, smiling once more.

“Hey…” She said softly. “Do you like the clothes? Are they comfortable?”    

The Prince nodded, standing by her side and crossing his arms, not quite knowing what to do next. Bulma immediately noted his cautious behavior and decided to give him a little push, patting the couch invitingly.

“Wanna come sit with me?”

He looked at her, those damn blue eyes, so full of life and yet almost supplicant, silently begging him to give her a chance and spend some time with her.

_Did he really have a choice?_

Without a single word, he sat down next to her, trying to keep a safe distance between their bodies, fearing he’d lose control if he allowed her to share her warmness with him. They silently watched the documentary still playing on the large screen and, despite the evident awkwardness still present in the room, Vegeta was able to gradually relax, calmed by the strange familiarity of the situation.

Back at Capsule Corp., he’d gotten used to Bulma waking up in the middle of the night when, during her insomniac nights, she’d quite often just lay on the sofa and watch some TV, and he’d stay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling as he listened to the faint sounds of the trivial films she enjoyed watching. The noises reminded him that she was there, a constant and somehow reassuring presence in his life. Many times, he’d walk into the living room after a couple of hours and he’d find her already asleep. The first few times he’d simply covered her lithe body with a cozy blanket but, as they’d gotten closer and their relationship progressed, he’d frequently dared to pick her up in his arms and take her to her bedroom, tucking her in and, eventually, joining her in her king-sized bed as well. Neither one of them said anything in the morning, but Vegeta knew those small details pleased his woman immensely and, for some unexplainable reason, this satisfied him too.

When the documentary was finally over, Bulma let out a small yawn and stretched languidly.

“What would you like to do now?”

Vegeta looked at her and she could see that, even though he seemed much more relaxed than before, his arms were still crossed defensively and he didn’t quite know what to say. It’d be up to her to keep them busy so they wouldn’t revert to their previous awkward situation, so she stood and walked to the TV, sitting on the floor and searching through a large box full of films and games Krillin and Yamcha had been using to entertain themselves during their trip together.

“Mmm… Let’s see what we’ve got here…” She mumbled to herself, but loud enough for Vegeta to hear. “How about a movie? We’ve got some DVD’s…”

Bulma raised her gaze, hoping for some kind of a reaction.

_Nothing._

She sighed inwardly, trying not to let his impassive behavior get to her.

“Oh! I know! How about playing a game?” She asked again, thinking that perhaps doing something Vegeta had to actively participate in would cheer him up a bit.

But, instead of accepting her invitation, he frowned, almost offended.

“A game? Woman, we are not children…”

“Uh?” Bulma blinked at few times, puzzled. “Well, they’re not exactly children’s games. Actually, these are just for adults…” She continued as she kept examining the contents of the box, hoping she’d find something that would catch the Saiyan’s attention.

“Oh! Look! This one’s really cool! It’s a fighting game!”

The word _‘fighting’_ certainly sparked Vegeta’s interest, and he set his eyes on the small box his mate was now holding in her hands, but no further words came out of his mouth yet. Bulma got up from the floor, sitting dangerously close to him, opening the box and going through the little book of instructions included inside.

“Let me see… Mmm… Yeah, I played this one years ago, it’s a classic! You’ll love it! What do you say?” She asked expectantly once again.

Vegeta grunted, uncertain.

He knew he’d seen those weaklings partake in such frivolous activities in the past and he’d always thought of it as a tremendous waste of time, especially while he’d been working his ass off in the meantime. But here, locked inside a space ship with the most desirable woman he’d ever met, he started to believe it was probably a good idea to keep himself occupied, regardless of the nature of the activity. Just as he was about to seriously consider agreeing to Bulma’s proposal, his mate decided to keep challenging him further…

“Awww… Come on, Vegeta!” She said, playfully elbowing his left arm. “What’s the matter? Are you afraid a girl will beat you?”

He groaned, offended.

_Oh no, she didn’t…_

He could see she was egging him on, and the blasted woman knew him too damn well because it was working, and he was now perilously close to saying yes.

“Care to make it interesting?” She carried on, a wicked smile on her beautiful face as she noticed she had him right where she wanted him. “How about we make a bet?”

The Prince raised an eyebrow at that.

“A bet? What kind of a bet?” He finally enquired circumspectly.

Bulma thought about it for a minute, wondering what she could possibly make the bet about. It was obvious to her that her mate owned very few possessions, so they couldn’t bet on anything of a material nature, not that she’d ever want to take anything from him anyway.

The naughty part of her briefly considered asking for something a bit more intimate, like maybe a kiss, but she didn’t want to put Vegeta in an uncomfortable situation, nor force him to do something he didn’t really feel like doing. If he ever chose to finally take the next step in their relationship, she wanted it to come from him, so she finally decided to try something else…

“I know! Okay, so… If I win, I get to ask you a question… No, wait! Two questions! And you have to answer, no matter what. And if you win, you get to ask me too, and I can’t refuse to reply either!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, woman. That bet would only work in your favor,” he quickly retorted.

Bulma was honestly surprised by his response.

“And why is that?”

He looked at her and offered her one of those trademarked cocky smirks of his, filled with presumptuous arrogance.

“I already know everything I need to know about you, so you and your damned nosiness would be the only winners in that scenario.”

Bulma crossed her arms petulantly, almost offended by the implications of what he was saying. Was Vegeta really not that interested in her? Or was he trying to piss her off? One look at his face told her he was, very possibly, just messing with her…

“Is that so? Well… Then the bet should just bother you in case you lose. Does that mean you’ve already accepted the fact that I’m going to kick your Royal ass and you’re scared of my damned nosy questions, _Lord Vegeta_?” She said mockingly, knowing oh, too well how to push the Saiyan’s buttons.

The Prince winced at the sound of his new title on her lips, suddenly disliking it for some reason.

_That did it…_

She was right, of course. The only way this bet of hers would turn against him was if he was defeated, and he had no intention on losing anyway. And it wasn’t so much that he wasn’t interested in asking his woman a few questions himself. The real issue was, his little mate was such a mystery to him, he firmly believed that, even if he had the chance to interrogate her for hours on end, he wouldn’t get any closer to understanding what really went on inside that brilliant mind and surprisingly generous heart of hers.

“Very well, woman, get ready to bite the dust…” He concluded, fixing his gaze challengingly on her and offering Bulma a glimpse of his former self: the proud, arrogant asshole she’d ended up loving far too much for her own good. Normally, she’d want nothing more than to erase that pompous look off his face, but she was secretly enjoying the sight of that haughty fire in his eyes, the one she’d been so afraid would have disappeared by now.

“Oh, you’re going down, buddy,” Bulma replied. Her radiant blue eyes were daring him to fight her, and that defiant attitude was, unbeknownst to her, driving the Saiyan mad with desire once again.

Bulma handed him one of the controllers, she put the game in the console and sat back down by Vegeta’s side, spending a few minutes re-familiarizing herself with the old game and teaching her mate the basics on how to play it. She wasn’t surprised to find out the Prince was a fast learner, and for an instant she feared he’d actually end up being the one who’d ultimately beat her metaphoric ass.

_Much to her relief, she’d been wrong…_

Several extremely intense hours later, Bulma realized she’d greatly underestimated herself and her abilities. Over that period of time, Vegeta’s character was punched, kicked, decapitated, blasted into oblivion, dismembered, thrown off a cliff, knocked unconscious, punctured and run over with several different types of vehicles. He died a countless number of times, getting killed and resurrected, only to end up dying again humiliatingly fast. Not to mention the mortifying moments in which he’d accidentally hurt himself or even fallen inside a pit.

“Oh, yeah!” Bulma yelled victoriously.

“Again!” Vegeta roared ferociously after getting killed, once again, by his woman’s character.

He was now sitting on the edge of the couch, his hands fiercely holding the controller, his tanned skin flushed in embarrassment.

“I don’t think so, Mister…” His mate cockily replied. “You’ve been asking for another chance for far too long, buddy…” She stood in front of him, proudly placing her hands on her hips in a classic Bulma Briefs pose.        

“Woman…” He muttered threateningly, wiping off a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Nope! I think we’re done here…” Bulma said, leaving the controller on the table and sitting cross-legged on the sofa in Vegeta’s direction. “I believe it’s time to collect my prize...” She said triumphantly, crossing her arms and sporting a huge grin on her marvelous face.

Vegeta kept side-eyeing her for a minute, stubbornly clutching the controller, still reluctant to let it go.

His shameful defeat and the proud look adorning his woman’s features were bad enough, but what was truly making his warrior blood boil even more was the torture he’d had to withstand during the entire time he’d agreed to play that ridiculously pointless earthling game of hers.

Bulma had literally destroyed him, her sharp mind and quick reflexes reminding him, once again, how incredibly intelligent his woman truly was. He reached the conclusion that it was a good thing his little mate had practically no ki energy to speak of, because he wasn’t convinced the Universe would be able to survive a woman like her: her temper, brains and beauty would have been deadly combined with proper ki control.

And, of course, as if dealing with the realization that Bulma was probably a far better strategist in combat than him hadn’t been bad enough, he’d also had to endure the very physical way in which the woman had been celebrating her victories. She’d jumped and yelled, sometimes giggling in pure joy and, at different times, laughing mockingly at him. Bulma would even do little dances, wiggling her tight perfect body right in front him and, once, she’d even sat spontaneously on his thigh, wrapping her arms around him and rubbing her soft cheek against him. The warmth of her skin against his had been driving him absolutely insane, and Vegeta didn’t quite know if he’d be able to endure this unnerving situation much longer.

He finally let go of the controller, begrudgingly placing it on the coffee table too, and he crossed his arms defensively, closing his eyes and leaning against the back of the couch once again. He exhaled loudly through his nose, ready to admit defeat in front of his mate.

“Fair enough, woman; I accept your victory,” he said half-heartedly, unwittingly swallowing his pride. “But only because this was a stupid game anyway and the outcomes of such fictional fights are of no consequence in the real world.”

Bulma rolled her eyes. “Whatever, Mister Grumpy Pants… I won fair and square and we both know it, so you know what that means,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows maliciously. “It’s question time!”

Vegeta groaned, not fully believing he was about to be interrogated by his mate and he’d have to force himself to give her prying questions an honest answer.

_Damn his burdensome Saiyan honor!_

“Mmm… Let me think…” Bulma continued, placing her index finger on her lips, thinking about her upcoming questions to Vegeta out loud. “What could I ask… Mmm…”

The warrior grew impatient, a muscle under his left eye twitching rhythmically. He was finding her behavior utterly annoying and childish and yet, deep down, still oddly charming.

_What was it about this woman?_

Every little thing she did or said caught his undivided attention…

“Alright. I think I got it,” she finally said with a confidence that made Vegeta’s skin crawl. If there was one thing the Prince hated was revealing personal information, and knowing his woman, she was probably about to ask him about things he’d rather not discuss.

Bulma remained silent for an instant, before adding, “But you have to promise you won’t get mad at me,” she whispered, suddenly biting her lip anxiously. The sudden change in her tone made Vegeta open his eyes and look at her, confirming his suspicions that the woman’s enquiry was of a serious nature.

_Fucking great…_

“I will not promise such things, since I do not know what it is you wish to know and whether or not your questions will offend or infuriate me. I am not a liar, woman, and I will not become one now, not even for the sake of your fragile human sensibility.”

His voice was neutral but firm, and Bulma felt, in a way, secretly grateful for his brutal honesty, so rare in her world, usually filled with ass-kissers and sycophants. Vegeta’s frankness had always been so refreshing to her.

“Fair enough,” she replied, still sitting cross-legged on the couch and placing her hands on top of her delicate ankles.

“How did you get that wound on your ribs?” Bulma finally asked, her voice soft but unwavering.

Vegeta squinted his eyes imperceptibly.

“Why?”

“That’s not important. Just answer the question, Vegeta.”

“I will not, unless you tell me why you wish to know such a trivial thing,” he replied skeptically.

Bulma cringed inwardly; she should have known the Saiyan would be hard to crack, but she shrugged nonchalantly nonetheless. “No reason,” she lied. “I’m just curious…”

“Why?” He asked again, knowing full well there must have been a reason why his woman was suddenly so interested in that one wound in particular, especially after having seen him injured countless times in the past, even to the brink of death in the now infamous Gravity Room explosion.

“Alright…” Bulma relented. “I’ll tell you why I’m so curious.” She paused briefly, taking a deep breath and praying to the Gods that this conversation wouldn’t turn ugly awfully fast…

“It looks like a wound caused by some kind of bladed weapon, possibly a knife.”

“So?” Vegeta questioned, attempting to follow the woman’s train of thought.

“So, it looks like a very deep wound if you ask me, which tells me that, whoever did it, managed to get really close to you.”

“And?”

“And, well… You are one of the strongest warriors in the Universe, as far as we know, so who’d be able to get that close to you with a knife?”

“Woman,” he said, trying to conceal a slight uneasiness in his voice. The blasted woman was smart, he gave her that. “I _am_ a warrior. Fighting is what I do, it’s in my blood, and sometimes, getting stabbed is part of the deal.”

“Yes, I know…” She carried on, tilting her head curiously to the side. “The thing is, Vegeta, that whoever did it had the time, not only to stab you and bury the blade to the hilt, but also to punch or kick you hard enough to fracture your ribs, I’m guessing while the knife was still inside of you, am I right?”

Vegeta gawked at the woman.

_‘That clever little bitch…’_

At times like this he truly wished his mate weren’t as intelligent as she was. His experience with women prior to meeting Bulma had been scarce, however, he’d quickly learned that, when it came to dealing with females, the less they knew the better. His sexual encounters had mostly been brief and to the point, and he’d certainly never shared personal information of any kind with neither of the women he’d bedded.

_Of course, Bulma had completely changed that._

Not only had his little mate managed to slowly get closer to him, but she’d somehow gotten under his skin, occupying a tiny bit of his heart and stubbornly refusing to let go of it. She was the only one who’d ever asked him questions simply because she was interested in him, fascinated by his past and culture, unlike those other females that had usually tried to pry information out of him only to use it for their own benefit. Of course, he’d always been far too clever to ever share anything intimate that could have made him susceptible to betrayal, and yet, Bulma had been the only being that had ended up knowing little tidbits, here and there, from his real past.

_And now, well…_

Now the brilliant woman had deduced his wound wasn’t the result of getting injured in battle.

“It doesn’t make any sense to me, Vegeta, you’re way too fast to allow an enemy to get away with something like that during a fight…”

Vegeta remained silent, weighing his options. If he told her the truth, he knew the woman would probably get upset, then again, her impeccable deduction skills would find out the truth one way or another, so he finally decided that truth shall be, once again, his best choice.

“You are correct, woman. I am now much faster than any opponent I have faced since my departure from Earth.”

Bulma waited quietly for him to carry on with his explanation; when it became clear he still wasn’t willing to give anything else away, she decided to keep pressing the issue.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“So, how did you get that wound on your ribs?” She asked again.

Vegeta exhaled loudly, finally giving up and looking to the side, closing his eyes and prudently avoiding her stare.

“I was not fighting when I got injured.”

There was an absolute quietness in the room as Bulma tried to put all the pieces together to understand what the warrior was trying to say.

“Oh, Dende…” She finally whispered, letting out a ragged breath. “Y-You… You were stabbed in your sleep?” She continued in a voice that was still soft but now full of astonishment.

Vegeta said nothing, still abstaining from looking at her. She sounded upset and on the verge of tears, exactly how he’d feared she’d react. But, wasn’t this what his woman had wanted? Didn’t she want the truth? Perhaps it was time for his mate to fully understand what kind of life he’d been living and what kind of life he was destined for.

He suddenly felt the weight of the cushions on the sofa shift, and he heard her walk quickly towards the kitchen. By the time he found the courage to open his eyes and look in her direction, she was already in the kitchenette, holding a now half-empty glass of water with trembling hands.

“Oh, Gods… Oh, Gods…” She kept mumbling over and over again, anxiously running her hand across her face repeatedly. “I knew it… I just knew it…”

_The sight of her was absolutely heartbreaking._

“Bulma…” He whispered, now standing in front of her. His arms were on his sides, his sturdy fingers itching to hold her against him, to comfort her, to try to make her understand that this was the life of a warrior, the life of a ruler…

She slowly raised her sight, setting her striking blue eyes on him. They were watery, filled with unshed tears, her ivory skin even paler than usual and her delicate face contorted in a mask of grief and something else he couldn’t fully identify.

_Was it pity, perhaps?_

“How can you live like that?” She susurrated, absolutely horrified.

“How?” He replied, simulating indifference but fully aware of what she was talking about.

“What do you mean ‘ _how’_? Like that! How…? Is that what you want? To live a life where you can’t even get a decent night’s sleep? A life where people will try to kill you the minute you turn your back?”

The tone of her voice kept rising, her breathing quickening, so he tried to remain cool as to not make things even worse. He absolutely _hated_ seeing her like this.

“It’s the only life I’ve ever known, woman,” he said in a low, deep voice.

She placed her shaky hands on his warm cheeks, holding his face firmly in place and forcing him to look her in the eye.

“I-I can understand you having to live like that in the past, but… But now you have a choice Vegeta! Now you _do_ have a choice!”

“What the fuck do you think my life is about, woman?” He replied hotly, boldly grabbing her wrists and taking those impossibly smooth hands away from his face; but Bulma, stubborn as always, kept holding on to him, tightly clutching the fabric of his sweatshirt and leaning a little on his solid chest.

“Your life is about whatever you want it to be now, Vegeta! That’s _precisely_ the point! Wasn’t that what you always wanted? To get rid of Frieza? Well, you did! And now you’re free!”

“You think just because that despicable, filthy lizard is dead I am free? I have a responsibility, woman! A duty! I was born to rule, and the life of a ruler is a dangerous one!”

Bulma shook her head passionately, still fiercely grasping his chest.

“No, Vegeta! You were born to rule! To rule over your people, not over those… Those bastards!”

Her harsh words made the Saiyan warrior growl furiously.

_That was enough._

It was time to awaken the woman, to make her to forget her delusions about him and who he really was.

“Look at me, Bulma.” He ordered authoritatively, one of his calloused hands forcefully grabbing her jaw and obligating her to focus on him.

“If those men, _my men_ , are bastards then so am I. It’s about time you wake the fuck up and forget about whatever or whoever the Hell your delusional mind thinks I am.”

Her chin was now trembling, and he felt the moisture of an unruly tear travel through her cheek, painfully caressing his fingertips as it rolled down.

“You are not like them, Vegeta! You’re not!”

Bulma was agitated, furiously staring at him and literally trying to physically shake him, attempting to make him see what she saw. He was not the bastard he thought himself to be, and he most definitely had nothing in common with those betraying assholes he constantly called _‘his men’_.

Of course, her efforts to shake him were in vain, and he stood in front of her, still as a rock. His entire body was now trembling in a rare mixture of rage and unwelcomed desire. He licked his now very thirsty lips as he held the face of his little mate, both brave and bewitching, crying for him, struggling to make him walk away from his current miserable life: the life of darkness and insatiable quest for power he’d been destined to live since the day he was born.

Vegeta absently run his thumb across her lower lip, unwittingly closing the gap between them and now perfectly able to feel her tremulous sweet breath intermingling with his own.

_He wanted to kiss her so desperately…_

_He needed to crush his lips against hers and erase that damned look of sorrow from her immaculate face…_

“Vegeta…” She whispered, her needy eyes also seeking his mouth. “It doesn’t have to be this way… You don’t have to live this life... You don’t have to…” She kept whispering, suppliantly.

“I am a Saiyan, Bulma. I was born evil, I have done terrible, _terrible_ things throughout my life, and the sooner you accept who I really am, the sooner you’ll…”

“No!” She cut him off ardently. “You are not evil, Vegeta!”

“Woman…” He said menacingly, slowly losing his patience, but she interrupted him again.

“W-What about Khalla?”

Vegeta frowned, honestly not knowing what or who she was talking about.

“Who?”

“K-Khalla,” she stuttered, whispering again, uncertain of whether her mate would feel uncomfortable discussing events from his past. But she _had_ to try, she had to make him see what, apparently, he was too blind and possibly too depressed to realize on his own.

“The old woman you gave your capsule to. We… We talked, Vegeta. She told me… She told me about how you saved her daughter from Nappa…”

His eyes widened a fraction.

_‘That fucking gossipy old woman…’_

He should have known. After all, that was what females did, wasn’t it? They just talked too damn much.

Vegeta hissed irritably, suddenly letting go of her trembling face. He could see she was still upset, and yet, her eyes were full of passion and life, infuriatingly tenacious, as always.

Should he tell her the whole story? He knew there was no way Bulma knew about the true fate of the young girl he’d been incapable of saving, given that even Khalla wasn’t aware of the real facts herself; the tragic tale of a young girl whose beauty had brought her an early, horrible death. He was painfully aware of his woman’s compassionate nature, and knew her heart would break if he told her the truth but, perhaps, this could be an opportunity: the chance to make his mate realize once and for all what an utter failure he’d always been.

_So, why not?_

Re-opening a few wounds from the past was a small price to pay if that made Bulma ultimately comprehend that the two of them were not meant to be together, that she deserved a much better man than the complete disappointment Vegeta thought himself to be. So, he put on his old mask, the oh, so familiar disguise he’d constantly hidden behind through the years, and a subtle, malevolent smirk drew itself on his lips as he grabbed her by her impossibly smooth shoulders and proceeded to walk slowly, very slowly, until Bulma’s back touched the cold metal wall of the ship.

She gasped softly, disconcerted by his behavior, and waited expectantly for his next move.

“Is that so?” He whispered maliciously. “And tell me, little woman, just what exactly did that decrepit gossipmonger tell you about me?”

“S-She… She told me about her daughter, about how beautiful she was and how Nappa t-tried to, um, to… To take advantage of her… And he attacked her and y-you, well…” Bulma was stammering fretfully at the sight of the old Vegeta interrogating her, but she also knew, deep down, that this was just a façade, a carefully crafted wall he’d always constructed in order to protect himself from the world, so she decided, once again, not to feel intimated by his performance.

“Well, she said you saved her and told her to go back home. And then… Then she told me everyone saw Nappa all beat up the next day, and she assumed you’d done it, b-because you were the only one strong enough to do that…” Bulma frowned slightly, tenderly caressing his hot cheek with a quivering hand. “Is that true, Vegeta? Did you save that poor girl?”

The Saiyan let go of her shoulders, placing his hands on both sides of her head now, effectively trapping her against the wall. He wanted to remove her blasted hand from his face but, much to his shame, he was secretly enjoying that his woman still wished to touch him in spite of the way he was now talking to her.  

“That is correct. I beat the shit out of Nappa, and I’d do it again a thousand times, but I did it because that bald fucker had no honor. I certainly didn’t do it so I could save an insignificant slave. That fucking girl meant _nothing_ to me, woman… Nothing! She was a slave, nothing more!”

Bulma smirked knowingly. It was clear as crystal Vegeta was underrating his concern towards other people.

“Right…” She replied confidently, crossing her arms and lifting her chin with self-assurance. “Just like those poor slaves you’ve been freeing throughout the Galaxy didn’t mean anything to you either…”

Vegeta growled loudly; her surprisingly smug behavior was turning out to be both exasperating and a massive turn on at the same time.

“I have not been liberating slaves, woman! I’ve simply been getting rid of Frieza’s remaining scum and settling old accounts from the past!”

The rise in his voice had absolutely no effect on the woman, who simply kept staring at him, seeing right through his masquerade.

“Then, why didn’t you simply take those slaves for yourself? You’re certainly strong enough to do it!”

“There’s no honor in taking slaves, just like there’s no honor in fucking a woman against her will,” he replied, so matter-of-factly that Bulma felt touched by his words, by how confident he sounded about rejecting such unbreakable values.

“Baby, don’t you see? That’s what makes you different! The fact that now you have the power to do literally whatever you want, and yet you still have such strong principles… You have honor, Vegeta! Those men don’t! Where’s the honor in trying to assassinate a man in his sleep?” Bulma now held his regal face in her hands, bravely bringing her lips closer to his. “An evil man would have never saved that poor girl, Vegeta…” She whispered zealously.

Her sweet breath on his lips was maddening, and Vegeta felt something inside his chest tighten. For a moment, he hesitated about telling his mate the truth about the young slave’s final misfortune, but he eventually chose to carry on with his plan of telling his mate the real facts.

“What else did the old woman tell you, Bulma? Did she tell you the girl died?”

Bulma nodded falteringly.

“How?”

“Y-You already know that. She said she died a year later…”

“How?” He repeated.

“From some illness… S-She said she was too frail to do hard labor…”

“What if I told you that’s not the truth, Bulma?”

The woman frowned in confusion.

“What…? What do you mean?” She asked, a sudden uneasiness taking hold of her.

“Nappa went back to the planet to pick up the girl not long after that incident.”

“Y-Yes, I know. Khalla told me he took her to one of Frieza’s palaces to work for him as a servant…”

“What if I told you the girl never even had the chance to set foot on Frieza’s palace, _Bulma_?”

“Wha…? What?”

Vegeta pressed his forehead against hers, his dark, smoldering eyes penetrating her now fearful blue ones. Bulma knew by now that, whatever it was her man was about to share with her, it would be undoubtedly revolting.

“What if I told you Frieza was curious about why I had beat the living shit out of Nappa and, after being told why I’d done it, he’d decided to punish me instead just for his sick, perverted amusement?”

Bulma’s face was suddenly filled with horror.

_What terrible, unspeakable things had that monster done to her lover?_

A part of her didn’t want to know, and yet, she _had_ to ask. She needed to find out what exactly had Vegeta gone through during his years serving under Frieza’s rule. His past life had always been such a devastating mystery to her, and she hoped whatever glimpse she could get of it would slowly assist her in putting all the pieces together to try to understand her mate a little better.  

“H-How…? How d-did he punish you?”

“He sent me away on a mission. It was the first time he ever assigned me a purging mission all by myself…”

His body was trembling, trembling in pure rage at the memories of the atrocities his old Master had ordered him to do and the impotence he’d experienced through the years: years and years of waiting, biding his time, waiting until he’d be strong enough to defeat the slimy son of a bitch, only to have a third-class asshole do it in his place.

Vegeta kept his forehead firmly pressed against hers, and he briefly squeezed his eyes shut, as if he were in deep pain, before he finally opened them again, setting his sight on Bulma once more as she waited, almost entranced by his close presence, for him to finish his story.

“He lied to me, of course,” he chuckled bitterly. “When I asked if I could take Nappa with me, he told me he had other plans for him and he asked me not to worry, promising there’d be other men waiting for me already on the planet I’d been assigned to purge…”

He took a deep breath, shaking his head and walking away from Bulma all of a sudden, running his hands nervously through his hair as he paced the room, completely lost in his memories.

“Like I said, it was a lie, and when I landed on the damned planet I realized I was all alone. The population was large, and their ki much higher than I had anticipated…”

Vegeta stopped pacing, sitting on one of the small chairs of the kitchenette and placing his elbows on the table, holding his head between his strong hands and hiding his eyes from Bulma, who was still standing in the same spot where he’d left her, hugging herself protectively and now openly crying, even though she knew her mate abhorred such public displays of sentimentality.

“I almost didn’t make it…” He muttered. “By the time I managed to fulfill my mission I was badly injured, and Frieza had to send a small rescue team to get me out of there safely. Something he kept reminding me for years, obviously.” There was a short pause before he whispered, “Fucking bastard…”

Bulma clumsily dried up her tears with the sleeve of her sweatshirt and cautiously sat down by his side, completely awestruck by this uncommon display of vulnerability. He looked so troubled, lost in those bitter recollections. It was small wonder he trusted nothing and no one. Who would? It looked like, not only had Frieza taken him away from his family, killing his entire race and destroying his planet not long afterwards, but he’d forced him to do his dirty work and had even messed with him for the sake of it, finding some sick, twisted satisfaction in hurting the young Prince for no apparent reason.

Vegeta finally came back to reality, tiredly rubbing his eyes and crossing his arms defensively as he leant back on the chair.

“While I was away on that mission, he gave Nappa permission to go back, retrieve the girl and do whatever he wanted with her.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “Which he did. You don’t even want to know the details, woman. All you need to know is… It was… It was the most dishonorable way in which a Saiyan warrior could treat a female… And the bastard kept bragging about it, telling the story, over and over again through the years, right until the day I finally got rid of him back on Earth.”

Bulma remained speechless, sitting still as she listened to her mate’s story in complete horror. She remembered how cold and inhuman she’d thought her Prince to be when she’d discovered he’d been able to kill his own comrade, not considering the possibility that there could have been some bad blood between them already even before the Saiyans had landed on her planet.

“So, you lied to Khalla…” She concluded.

Vegeta nodded somberly.

“I did. I had to travel often to that planet to pick up the weapons the slaves built for Frieza, and every single time that irritating old woman would ask me about her daughter, so I simply waited a prudent amount of time and finally fabricated a less violent death for her child.”

“Vegeta, do you know what that’s called?”

The Saiyan frowned. “What is what called?”

“What you did, do you know what that is? On Earth, we call it a _‘white lie’_ , a lie you tell someone to spare their feelings…”

Vegeta snorted incredulously.

_What was that damned look on her face?_

It was almost as if she were proud of him.

“Don’t be ridiculous, woman! I don’t give a shit about sparing anyone’s stupid feelings! I simply didn’t want to have to deal with the old woman’s pathetic emotions. The truth would have benefited no one in that scenario.”

“Whatever you say…” She shrugged with false indifference. “I still believe those are not the actions or the words of an evil man, besides…”

The loud sound of Vegeta’s rough hand slamming the table shut her up automatically.

“I _am_ evil, woman! Stop this fucking nonsense, right now!”

“It’s not nonsense, Vegeta! Why do you have to be so stubborn?”

“I could ask you the same fucking question, woman!” He replied, his eyes angrily fixated on her. “So, because I lied to that foolish old woman, now you suddenly think I’m not…”

“Gods, Vegeta! I’m not saying what I’m saying because of Khalla’s story! I even told Dende before I left the Earth that I thought you weren’t evil!”

Vegeta was silent for a moment, until he finally tilted his head to the side, looking confused.

“Dende? You mean the Namekian boy?”

Bulma’s eyes widened slightly, and one look at him told her she’d screwed up.

_She’d screwed up big time…_

“Y-Yeah… We, we talked a bit before… Before I left…”

“About what, woman?”

“N-Nothing, really… He just, you know…” She mumbled nervously, knowing the last thing she needed right now was Vegeta thinking she’d only gone into space looking for him because Dende had known of his whereabouts and she’d been sent to stop him.

And the expression on his face told her that was _exactly_ what was going on through Vegeta’s mind.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her forcefully towards him, almost making her fall from her chair.

“What did you talk about, Bulma? And don’t fucking lie to me, woman. I’m Saiyan! I can fucking smell it when people lie to me…” He threatened, his voice low and menacing.

“N-Nothing, Vegeta. H-He told me you, uh, you know, you were traveling with a group of men. That’s all, really…”

“And how the Hell would that idiot know where I was or who I was with?!”

“H-He’s a God, Vegeta. He’s a young G-God, so he told me he sometimes talks to the other Gods and they… They teach him secrets…”

“And what else did he tell you, woman?” He kept asking, completely focused on his woman’s reactions in an attempt to find out whether she was lying to him.

“Vegeta,” she sighed. “You need to calm down, alright?”

Bulma gently pulled away, breaking free from his almost painful grip, and she rubbed her wrist soothingly, trying to choose her words wisely. She hoped things wouldn’t get too out of control.

“Look, he didn’t say much, okay? Piccolo showed up in our home, and he said Dende wished to speak to me. So, you know… I went to The Lookout, and Dende told me you were out there with a group of men. That’s all, Vegeta.”

Vegeta’s face remained immobile, frozen in a permanent scowl of skepticism.

“Did he tell you what I had done?”

She nodded.

“Yes, Vegeta. Well… Kind of… He told me some blood had been spilt, but… But he said it wasn’t innocent blood, Vegeta. And I believed it.” She replied with firm conviction. “And then…”

“And then what, Bulma?”

Bulma let out a ragged breath, afraid, once more, to allow herself to become vulnerable in front of the Saiyan. If Vegeta broke her heart again, she truly didn’t know if she’d ever recover.

“He asked me if I thought you were evil, Vegeta. And I said no.”

The warrior felt the room spin around him. His mate’s eyes were telling the truth, as usual, and he knew, as he’d always known, that Bulma didn’t possess a dishonest bone in her beautiful body.

_How could it be?_

Was it possible the woman had known all along what he’d been up to and she’d still chosen to leave their child behind on Earth and embark on some almost suicidal quest just to bring him back?

_And, why?_

Why would she want to spend her life with a monster like him?

True, he hadn’t killed anyone that didn’t deserve it yet, but knowing himself and the madness that had constantly surrounded him since birth, he also knew sooner or later whatever remained of his sanity would snap and then, then he’d do something _truly_ unforgivable.

He looked at her, her eyes full of affection and undeserving love for him.

_It was infuriating…_

“Damn you, woman!” He roared, standing up and throwing away his chair at an inhuman speed, making Bulma scream in shock.

“Be careful, dammit! Do you want to destroy the ship and kill us both?!” She yelled angrily.

He pointed in her direction with an irate trembling finger.

_Oh, yes…_

Anger was good, anger was a familiar emotion, something he could hold onto, something he could control.

“You… You’re just a lying little bitch!”

“Ve-Vegeta, what…?”

“Be silent, Bulma! I know what you are! You…” He kept pointing at her, barely keeping his self-inflicted fury in check. “Y-You… You’re just a little errand girl, aren’t you? All of those, th-those… Those fucking words about l-lo… About l-lo…”

“About love, Vegeta! Love! My Gods! Do you know how sad it is that you can’t even say the word?” She asked with tears in her eyes.

“Tsk! And why the fuck would I want to pronounce a word that doesn’t mean a thing, uh?” He kept pacing again, like an untamed, large feline trapped in a cage. “You… Y-You… You’re just a little errand girl… J-Just… They just sent you here, didn’t they? Didn’t they?!”

Bulma just stood still, shaking her head anxiously, her tears falling freely down her pale cheeks.

He was withdrawing, locking away his emotions right in front of her very eyes. It wasn’t the first time she’d witnessed him behaving like this, but it certainly was the first time she finally understood why he was acting this way.

Vegeta had just offered her a rare glimpse into his past: a past filled with pain and betrayal. A youth spent amongst immoral men, capable of the most despicable acts, between them his own comrade, an older Saiyan that, as far as she knew, had been assigned to watch over him, to protect and serve him. A man that had brought him nothing but trouble, shame and dishonor in the end.

And then there was Frieza, her mate’s former Master. Bulma had always known he’d ordered Vegeta around, forcing him to do his dirty bidding in his place, but now she’d also learnt the son of a bitch had found great pleasure in messing with his head as well, torturing him and putting his life in unnecessary danger just for the sake of it, for his own perverse amusement.

_His life had been one big disaster after another, hadn’t it?_

A life full of anger, hatred, agony and mistrust, and in her mind, there was only one way to save him so, finding a courage she didn’t even know she possessed, she walked bravely in his direction and wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her tiny body against his in a fierce embrace.

“I love you, Vegeta… I _do_ love you, you hear me?” She whispered in his ear.

Vegeta’s body went stiff as a marble statue at her touch, shocked by her bold, unanticipated move.

“I love you…” She repeated, tenderly kissing his golden cheek. “I love you… I love you, Vegeta…”

He closed his eyes, momentarily basking in her warmth, wanting to believe her honeyed words more than he’d ever wished to believe anything in his entire cursed life. The combination of her affectionate words and her enticing body’s close proximity was overwhelming, tempting him, luring him into a world of love, safety, trust and affection.

_A world only his Bulma embodied._

_It was too much…_

He clenched and unclenched his fingers apprehensively a few times before he finally had the strength to gently push her away, forcing her to let go off him.

“Stay away from me, Bulma,” he muttered in an almost imperceptible voice, his eyes never leaving the ground, incapable of looking his fragile mate in the eye.

In the blink of an eye, he was gone, leaving Bulma standing alone, shaking, in the middle of the now freezing ship. She was so upset she could barely breath, her tears blurring her vision and her chest constricting anxiously. She heard the sound of one of the doors of the small rooms closing, the noise making her close her eyes tiredly.

_What should she do now?_

Should she leave him alone, or should she follow him and try to talk some sense into him?

She quickly decided that trying to reach him was the only choice she really had. If Vegeta erected a new wall between them, it would take far too long to get him to open up again, and they’d made so much progress in the past couple of days already…

_Damn her and her big mouth!_

She shouldn’t have mentioned her conversation with Dende at all, especially knowing how distrustful the Saiyan was feeling at the moment. But, then again, she was so damn exhausted she could barely think straight anymore.

“Vegeta?” She asked softly, shyly knocking at the door.

Silence.

“Vegeta, please… Let’s talk about this... Please?”

Bulma was only rewarded with more unnerving silence. She briefly considered attempting to open the door, but she didn’t want to invade her mate’s personal space, besides, she was pretty sure he’d locked up the door already anyway.

“Vegeta! Please, open the door!” She repeated, banging the door louder and feeling her voice rise in exasperation. “Please! Let’s talk about this! It’s not what you think, Vegeta! It’s not!”

The Saiyan laid on the bed completely immobile, his arms crossed behind his head, staring at the ceiling. Despite his casual posture, the Prince was feeling anything but indifference towards the pitiful sounds Bulma was making outside his cabin.

“Vegeta! I swear! He asked me if I thought you were evil! And I said no! I said no, Vegeta!”

He finally covered up his face with a pillow, muffling the sounds of her delicate voice breaking down into tears of distress. She kept frantically banging the door, telling him repeatedly that she loved him, that she didn’t believe him to be an evil man. Vegeta hadn’t lied to her when he’d warned her about his ability to detect people’s lies. Through the years, he’d become an expert at deception, both at sensing it and using it against his enemies, and one thing was painfully clear: Bulma was telling the truth.

The Prince closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath as he tried to isolate his mind from the heartbreaking sounds his mate was making outside.

Eventually, the door banging stopped and Bulma whispered a few tired, unintelligible words. The faded sound of her sorrowful weeping in the distance was the last thing he recalled hearing before a troubled, restless sleep finally overtook him…

He wasn’t sure how long he managed to sleep for but, by the time he woke up, the entire ship was engulfed in the most unnerving of silences.

Vegeta groggily stood from the bed and walked to the door, unlocking and opening it slowly, without making a sound. He wasn’t quite ready for what he found waiting for him outside: there, sitting on the cold metal floor, was his mate. Her back leaning on the wall, her thin arms wrapped around the knees she had tightly pressed against her chest and her face hidden from his view.

_Was she asleep?_

And, more importantly, had she been waiting for him like _this_ all this time?

The Saiyan felt like a bastard, and now that his previous anger outburst had withered away, he was deeply ashamed about the way he’d treated her earlier. He’d yelled at her, simply for telling him the truth.

Was he even surprised Dende and the other Gods had known about what he’d been up to ever since he’d abandoned Earth and they’d gotten in touch with Bulma to let her know? She was, whether he liked it or not, the only person that had ever gotten close enough to him. The only one he’d established some kind of meaningful bond with, so it made sense that his reckless behavior would have been a reason of concern to such powerful beings.

And what was even worse, he’d called her a lying bitch, even though he’d known, despite his previous irate state, that she’d been telling the truth. The young Namekian had asked Bulma whether she believed Vegeta to be an evil man and she’d said no.

_How could that be?_

_Was it possible his woman had seen something in him that he couldn’t see himself?_

Whatever the cause, the only thing he felt right now was the unshakable desire to make things right with her. After all, she deserved nothing less from him.    

Vegeta took a few steps and stood in front of her. She looked so small, curled up on the floor, and he knelt down in an attempt to pick her up and carry her to the bed but, the moment his hands touched her now frozen body, she awoke startled.

Bulma silently looked at him, her delicate face, at first still filled with a hint of apprehension, gradually relaxed when she noticed her mate didn’t seem to be mad at her anymore. She looked sleepy, her eyes and lips still a bit swollen from all of her previous crying, and the sight of her made something warm and unfamiliar stir in his chest. A sincere emotion he’d forced himself to ignore for as long as he could but that was now becoming irrepressible.

“Vegeta,” she whispered, her face barely illuminated by the dim emergency lights from the ship.

“I’m so sorry… I know I should have told you about my conversation with Dende, but… I just, I didn’t want you to get upset and to think that I…”

“Don’t apologize, woman,” he cut her off, his voice steady but kinder than she’d expected it to be.

Bulma held her breath when Vegeta gently tucked an unruly lock of hair behind her ear and, right after this unanticipated action, he softly caressed her cheek with his strong hand, his thumb lovingly stroking her skin, drawing tiny circles on it while he kept those usually impenetrable eyes of his fixated on hers. The heiress couldn’t help but feel like there was something different in the way he was looking at her now, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. Before she had time to ask, Vegeta spoke once more.

“I am the one who should…”

He paused, struggling to find the right words, fighting a conflicted battle between his pride, his ego and what he knew, deep in his heart, to be the right thing to do. Bulma waited patiently, not wanting to put any pressure on him as she secretly reveled in the warmth of his touch and the unexpected tenderness of it.

“Bulma,” he continued, solemnly, “My words earlier… They were… They were uncalled for.”

Bulma kept staring at him, completely enthralled by her mate’s words.

_Did he just apologize to her?_

The hint of a smile appeared on her lips, and she knew she had never been prouder of her man than she was at that very moment. Sure, he’d pissed her off and even hurt her deeply quite a few times in the past, and he had _‘apologized’_ in his own way before, but his way of making up had always been physical, mostly consisting in swallowing his pride after having spent a couple of days apart and showing up in her bedroom, in the middle of the night, physically trying to show her what she truly meant to him. Vegeta was, after all, a warrior. A man of action, not of words, and she’d finally come to accept and understand that he’d never be the most vocal of men when it came to expressing his feelings and emotions, which was precisely the reason why his words were now so shocking and moving to her.  

She slowly turned her head to the side, closing her eyes and placing a long, languid kiss on the rugged palm of his hand, which was still resting on her cheek.

“It’s okay Vegeta,” she muttered. “I understand, really… I…”

Before she could go on, the Prince leaned forward, now placing his hand on the nape of her neck and bringing her closer to him with great care. He kissed her lips softly, almost innocently, making Bulma inhale sharply by this unexpectedly bold move, but quickly allowing herself to relax and give in to his kiss.

Vegeta kissed her repeatedly, delicately locking his lips with hers over and over and enjoying the tiny moans of pleasure he was eliciting from his little mate, whose fragile hands were now shyly clutching the sleeves of his sweatshirt. The was something pure, almost childlike, in the way he was kissing her today and, in the back of his mind, he knew it had never been like this before.

 _What did it all mean?_ He didn’t know. All he knew was he’d never felt as raw and defenseless as he did in that instant.

Bulma felt overtaken by a sudden wave of emotion, provoked by the relief of Vegeta finally bringing down his defenses, both mentally and physically, and the rare sweetness of these innocent kisses he’d chosen to freely share with her.

_Soon, she wanted even more…_

“Vegeta…” She mumbled against his mouth, the tip of her rosy tongue tentatively licking his lower lip, making him grunt and shiver in desire. His reaction wasn’t lost on her, and she carefully repeated her actions, lazily licking and nipping his lower lip, teasing him, wordlessly pleading for more of him. With little hesitation, the Saiyan happily obliged.

His tongue finally joined hers, exploring her mouth, drinking in from her feminine sweetness. That newfound feeling of vulnerability was still there, unmovable, like a familiar alarm bell warning him, begging him to walk away and go back to his former icy self, but he stubbornly put it aside, choosing to finally allow himself to enjoy the exquisite creature in his arms.

They kissed for several minutes, both happy to just be with each other, finally enjoying a moment of true intimacy after all the exasperating time they’d been apart.

It was only when Bulma finally moved her hands from his clothing to his face that he noticed how cold she really was. He frowned, reminding himself of how delicate his woman actually was and feeling, once again, the need to protect her by getting her to a much warmer, comfortable place.

He broke their kiss, smirking at the sound of displeasure Bulma made all of a sudden, delighted to see that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

“Hold on to me, woman,” he whispered in her ear, gently grabbing her arms and encouraging her to wrap them around his robust neck. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and, when she let him, Vegeta was put at ease feeling Bulma so relaxed and comfortable in his embrace. For an instant, he’d been worried he’d have scared her off with his heated, foolish behavior, but the tiny woman still seemed to trust him, burying her face in the crook of his neck and sighing happily as he walked her through the dark hallway and into the living area, where the large king-sized bed awaited them, still unmade since the last time they’d slept on it.

Vegeta placed her gently, almost reverently on the bed, taking great care to accommodate her head on one of the fluffy pillows. When he tried to let go of her, however, she wouldn’t allow it, hungrily kissing his lips yet again.

“Please, don’t go…” She begged in a whisper, sounding like a child who was about to be denied of her favorite treat.

He smiled playfully against her mouth.

“Greedy woman… I’m not going anywhere…” He said, immediately lying beside her on the bed with his mate’s arms still obstinately draped around his neck. Vegeta stretched one arm, trying precariously to cover her up with the blankets while Bulma’s mouth teasingly traveled across his jaw and neck, her lips and tongue eagerly kissing and playing with his hot exposed skin.

It was intoxicating and, in the end, he had to briefly coax her to cease her ministrations by gently unwrapping her arms away from his neck and firmly holding her petite hands between his. He lay by her side, both lovers facing each other, and he closed his eyes momentarily, his senses inundated both by his mate’s presence and her charms.

_He couldn’t take it…_

“Bulma, I just… I just need a minute…” He muttered self-consciously.

She said nothing, completely understanding how exposed the Saiyan was feeling in that moment and not wishing to pressure him into doing anything that might still be too much for him. So Bulma waited, simply enjoying the fact that Vegeta was now freely sharing his warmth with her.

Eventually, Vegeta opened his eyes and slowly, very slowly, he brought her hands to his lips and proceeded to place soft, feathery kisses all over them, making Bulma shakily squeeze his hands back in return. When he looked into her eyes again, he was surprised to find her lips trembling, offering him a tender, watery smile.

“Vegeta…” She sobbed, deeply affected by his uncharacteristically affectionate gestures.

It was hard to believe that, even though they’d slept together on countless occasions in the past, she’d never felt closer to her mate than she felt right now. There they were, lying next to each other, both of them fully clothed, and yet, the intimacy they were sharing in that moment was extraordinary.

Bulma shyly let go of his hands, caressing his cheeks and jaw, her delicate fingertips grazing his skin until she buried them in his hair, lazily running them through his scalp, making him sigh in pleasure. She boldly brought herself close to him and pressed her forehead against his. Her fingers possessively gripping his hair, a gesture she knew the warrior loved when they were intimate, and she indolently kissed him again, thrilled to feel Vegeta immediately respond to her touch. He carefully traveled her gorgeous body as his mouth kept exploring hers. Her pink sweatshirt completely exposed her midriff, and the Saiyan found great pleasure in running his hands across the curvy sides of her body, his calloused fingers reacquainting themselves with her small waist and voluptuous hips, secretly enjoying how her breath hitched sometimes, due to how ticklish his little mate could be.

Holding her body in his arms, and enjoying her taste in his mouth, made him feel as if he’d been a thirsty man, wondering in the desert, and he’d finally found an idyllic Oasis to drink from.

_Bulma felt like home._

_His home…_

So, he held her tight, pressing his solid body against her soft form, and they kissed for innumerable minutes, almost rediscovering each other in a new way. Bulma intertwined her long legs with his, her little toes sometimes curling and uncurling in excitement at the feeling of his skillful hands caressing her skin.

What at first had started as a sweet, innocent kiss, slowly evolved into a heated, almost needy exchange and, when Bulma couldn’t take it anymore, she grabbed the neck of his sweatshirt and pulled in her direction, physically attempting to roll them over so he’d be on top of her. The Saiyan relented with little effort on her part, and he quickly positioned his muscular body on top of hers, carefully supporting part of his weight on one of his elbows so as not to crush her. He’d always been so cautious, almost obsessed with trying not to hurt his fragile mate, that he’d already gotten used to it, so he just kept kissing her, ardently joining his tongue with hers in a playful, intimate dance.

“Vegeta…” She mumbled against his lips, her hands abandoning his hair and tenderly holding both sides of his face. “I love you…” She said, in between fervent kisses. “I love you…”

Vegeta kept kissing her, trying to ignore the strange feeling growing in his chest at his mate’s sincere declaration of love, until she finally stopped, slowly separating her lips from his and looking him straight in the eye.

“I mean it, Vegeta,” she whispered passionately. “I really mean it. I love you; I do love you, Vegeta…”

He timidly caressed her soft, feathery hair, fully believing her words but, also, painfully aware of the fact that he’d probably never be able to return the sentiment, at least, not verbally.

“I know, Bulma,” he replied sincerely, trying to appease her doubts as best as he could.

His past fears and insecurities returned at the sight of his woman’s stunning face slowly morphing into what looked like a sad frown, her bright blue eyes shimmering and unexpectedly bursting into tears.

_What just happened?_

_Did he say something wrong?_

“Woman…” He muttered in low, confused voice. “What…?”

As if reading his concerned thoughts, Bulma quickly shook her head and she smiled through her tears, hugging him closely and pressing her smooth cheek against his.

“They’re happy tears, Vegeta…” Bulma whispered against his skin, placating his doubts. “I’m happy…” She said again, and this time he truly sensed her joy behind those so-called happy tears she’d already talked to him about in the past but he’d never fully managed to comprehend.

Earthlings, and blue haired Earth women in particular were, and always would be, a great mystery to him…

But he decided that, even though reading other people’s emotions and expressing his own wasn’t his forte, he could at least do his best to comfort the small woman in his arms. So, he returned her embrace, one hand cupping her head and another one on her back, and he rolled them over in one swift motion, allowing her to lay completely on top of him.

Vegeta knew his woman loved to sleep on top of him. He often felt her wake up in the middle of the night, crawling on the bed and climbing on top of his body, most likely thinking him already asleep.

What Bulma didn’t know was that his sleep was as light as a cat’s, always awakening at the slightest sound or movement around him, but whenever she approached him during nighttime, he’d remain still, letting her do whatever she wanted with him. The first few times he’d done it out of curiosity, to see if he could discover his woman’s real intentions and whether she’d ever attempt to hurt or betray him. But soon he learnt the woman’s heart was as pure as it could be, and he eventually chose to continue playing his little game of pretense, finding every single thing she did to him extremely amusing, whether it was falling asleep on top of him or initiating some fantastic night sex, always taking the initiative until, of course, his Saiyan domineering instincts would finally put her in her place, not that she ever complained about him ultimately taking control over their coupling.

Vegeta grabbed the blankets and covered up the shivering body of the woman now lying on top of him, still trembling slightly due to her latest emotional outburst. She placed her hands on his chest, the side of her face pressed against his heart which, incidentally, was the real reason behind Bulma’s unusual sleeping habits.

She simply loved to press her ear against her mate’s chest, his heart beating strongly just for her. It reminded her that, regardless of how rude, cold or distant Vegeta could be at times, his body was still alive, and it was his mind, his soul, which were truly broken. As the powerful sound of the warrior’s heartbeat lulled her to sleep, she promised herself, every single night, that she’d do everything within her power to make him feel as alive as his body had always been…

Based on Vegeta’s current behavior, Bulma’s hopes were higher than ever.

She hadn’t been lying when she’d told Vegeta her tears were happy ones. She felt relieved, overjoyed by her mate’s display of affection. It was as if, for the first time, he’d truly chosen to listen to her and, not only he seemed to be willing to give her a chance, but it appeared as if he were also seriously considering giving one to himself too. Vegeta had never showed her the tenderness he was demonstrating in that instant and that had to be necessarily a positive sign.

Gradually, a newfound sense of calm replaced her tears. Bulma closed her eyes, and the couple simply lay together, sharing a comfortable silence. Vegeta kept softly petting her silky hair with one hand, running his thick fingers lazily through it while his other hand kept her firmly pressed selfishly against him, refusing to let go of her. Bulma smiled drowsily, the familiar sound of her mate’s powerful heartbeat inviting her to sleep, just like in their old times…

“You never asked your second question, woman,” Vegeta finally whispered, disturbing the quietness in the room, but never stopping his hands gentle attentions on his mate’s body.

“Mmm?” Bulma mumbled sleepily, not fully understanding what the warrior was referring to.

“The question, woman. I promised you could ask me two questions after you won that game earlier and you only asked one.”

“Ah, right… That’s true.” Bulma replied quietly. “It doesn’t really matter I guess. You’ll probably think it’s a stupid question anyway…”

“Oh, I’m sure it will be a stupid question, woman, after all, it was a stupid meaningless game to begin with.”

The woman chuckled softly at that.

_Vegeta behaving like a sore loser?_

_Who would have thought…_

“Nonetheless, I am a Saiyan, and I gave you my word, woman.”

Bulma smiled again. In the past, she’d sometimes rolled her eyes at Vegeta’s constant _‘heroic speeches’_ about Saiyan honor, but now she knew his honor was, and always would be, her mate’s most prized possession, one that had stopped him from becoming like many of the monsters he’d been surrounded with throughout most of his life.

She remained silent for a moment, until she finally dared to ask the little question that had been plaguing her mind ever since her son from the future had abandoned their timeline back in her home planet.

“It’s about Mirai Trunks…” She whispered softly, her eyes still closed as she felt her body giving in to her exhaustion.

Vegeta hesitated for a minute. The memory of his son from the future still haunted him from time to time. He knew that, even though in the end the young man had learned just how much he truly meant to his father, Vegeta hadn’t really been fair to him during most of his stay with them on Earth. The rough and unkind treatment he’d given the old version of his son was something he’d always regret.

“What about him?” He finally managed to ask.

“Mmm… It’s about the day he left,” she went on, idly rubbing her cheek against the soft fabric of his clothing. “When you two said goodbye to each other, you did something with your hands, like a sign… I just wanted to know what it means…”

Now it was Vegeta’s turn to chuckle good-humoredly.

_So, that’s what it was…_

It turned out that Bulma’s clever mind had paid attention, as always, to every single detail surrounding her. It should come as no surprise that she’d been curious back then about the intimate gesture shared between father and son, but even the Saiyan was a tad surprised about her still recalling and questioning it.

“Mmm…” He responded, pretending to be considering whether to give her an explanation or not.

“I’m not really sure if a scrawny human female should have knowledge of private information exchanged between Saiyan warriors, woman,” he said mockingly.

If she hadn’t been on the brink of falling dead asleep, Bulma would have rolled her eyes at that egotistical, narrow-minded comment.

“Ugh…”  The heiress mumbled tiredly. “Nevermind…”

She sighed softly, her long fingers clutching his clothing a bit tighter as she nuzzled his broad chest one last time.

“Mmm… I don’t know why I even bother…” She slurred.

The Prince smiled softly, still caressing her hair. He’d expected her to put up a fight, or at the very least, be offended by his words of mockery, but she must have been truly drained if she didn’t even have the energy to be her usual feisty, snoopy self.

He raised his head and kissed the top of hers, nuzzling her satiny hair and deeply inhaling her sweet, soothing scent before finally helping her decipher his secretive enigma.

“It means _‘hope’_ ,” he susurrated, before finally deciding to join his little mate in the land of dreams…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmm... It seems like things are finally going well for Vegeta and Bulma.
> 
> I know some of you were expecting lemons, I hope you're not too disappointed, but I promise you won't have to wait too long now...
> 
> In the next chapter, Bulma and Vegeta will reach their destination, Vegeta will face his old enemy and we'll find out what kind of planet they're exactly about to visit...


	22. A Ghost From The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta get ready to land on a new, mysterious planet, where Vegeta will face an old enemy with unexpected consequences...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, I'm back!
> 
> I'm sorry for taking this long with this update, but I've had my University exams and I've been really busy.
> 
> Also, this chapter is, again, one of the longest I've written so far in this fanfic and there's a LOT going on, so I hope the wait was worth it.
> 
> Hopefully, I'll soon be able to go back to writing and updating more often.
> 
> A little warning: There are some unpleasant themes discussed in this chapter, nothing too major, but I just wanted to give you a little heads-up.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

Vegeta run his amused eyes across the wide selection of clothing his mate had placed all over their large bed and he smirked, shaking his head at the same time, finding the whole situation completely ridiculous.

Who the Hell would pack such revealing garments when preparing for a dangerous trip into Space?

Only his shameless, vulgar woman would do such a thing and, ironically, her collection of sexy dresses and underwear had turned out to come in handy as they began the process of getting ready for landing on Planet Virggo.

“This one,” he said, grasping a minuscule dress that looked more like a black scrap of cloth rather than actual female clothing. “With this,” he continued, choosing a very skimpy black silk thong.

“These?” Bulma asked in shock, holding both items shyly in her hands, dumbfounded and embarrassed at once at the sight of the extremely raunchy pieces her mate had selected for her.

Vegeta nodded affirmatively.

“Are you sure?” She enquired again, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

“Yes, woman,” he replied, a hint of exasperation and mirth in his voice.

“You can’t be serious…”

The Saiyan crossed his arms, finding the whole scenario absolutely hilarious, and he stood right in front of her.

“What’s the matter, Bulma? I thought we agreed that you’d follow my instructions at all times during our stay in Virggo.”

Bulma sighed in defeat, clutching the tiny garments in one hand and closing the collar of her white bathrobe self-consciously with the other.

“I know I did, but…”

“But, what?” He asked authoritatively.

“Nevermind…” She said, exhaling through her nose and turning around towards one of the cabins. “I’ll go get dressed…”

“Don’t take too long, woman. We’ll be landing in less than four hours and you _must_ be ready by then.”

“Yeah, yeah…” She mumbled dismissively, entering one of the small rooms, placing the clothes on a chair and sitting on the bed dejectedly.

_Unbelievable…_

She still couldn’t believe she was about to do what Vegeta was asking of her but, after all, she had no right to complain now, right? Wasn’t she the one who’d practically begged him to take her with him on this trip? She knew, deep down, that Vegeta would never hurt her or allow anyone else to harm her either, and his little plan was all for the sake of her safety. Still, she couldn’t help but find these circumstances utterly humiliating and completely against her nature.

Bulma took a deep breath and stood from the bed, looking at herself in the mirror placed on one of the doors of the narrow closet. She was freshly showered, and all that was left now was for her to do her hair, makeup and get dressed, so she grabbed a hairdryer and she switched it on, getting to work on getting ready for Vegeta.

 _‘It’s just for a few hours,’_ she kept reminding herself.

Just a few hours pretending to be something she wasn’t while Vegeta took care of whoever it was he was about to kill, and then he’d promised her a week, _one whole week_ , just the two of them alone in some mysterious, isolated location he’d assured her, repeatedly, she’d really enjoy.

“Alright, Bulma Briefs, let’s see what you’re made of…” She whispered as she reluctantly started the process of doing her hair…

A bit more than an hour later, it had become quite clear that being Bulma Briefs wasn’t so great these days, especially when Vegeta knocked at the door and, not getting a reply, finally entered the cabin, finding her sitting nervously on the bed, her hair and makeup immaculately done but still clad only in her white fluffy robe.

“Woman, what the…?”

He stopped dead in his tracks just as he was about to chastise her, one look at the woman telling him something was seriously wrong with her. She raised her eyes, full of fear and something else he couldn’t fully grasp. Her appalling expression made him immediately soften up his tone of voice.

“Bulma, what’s the matter? Why aren’t you ready?” He asked, making the enormous effort to hide his impatience and apprehension so as to not make her feel even more stressed out.

“I… I can’t do this, Vegeta…” She replied in a trembling whisper, almost sobbing pitifully. “I can’t… I just can’t…”  

Vegeta felt his chest constrict at the poignant sound of her voice, and he took a few steps forward, standing right in front of her and kindly offering her his hand.

“Come here, woman,” he commanded softly, holding her hand and making her stand up, pressing her body against his. His large hands carefully cupped her face, his thumbs lightly grazing the delicate skin of her cheeks. “Let me take a look at you…” He whispered, his warm breath caressing her lips as he inspected her work.

_Bulma looked absolutely breathtaking._

Her usually straight hair had been subtly curled into soft, lustrous waves, and her skin was radiant. Her makeup was light, as always, designed to enhance her perfect features instead of hiding them behind a heavy mask. Her longer eyelashes framed those expressive blue eyes and her glowing skin was perfectly complemented by succulent, glossy nude lips.

_She looked flawless._

“Not bad…” Vegeta mumbled, immediately feeling his body respond to the dangerous combination of her proximity and her beauty. He kept caressing her skin, his eyes hypnotized by her immaculate visage. “What’s the matter, Bulma?” He gently asked again.

“Vegeta…” Bulma whispered. “I just… I don’t know if I can do this…”        

“Are you afraid, woman?” He said in a voice so low she would have had trouble hearing it if she hadn’t been so close to him.

Bulma remained immobile, her mind was such a mess of nervousness, confusion and unanswered questions that she needed a minute to collect her thoughts, and the unresolved tension hanging heavily between them wasn’t helping her clear her mind either.

It’d been three days ever since he’d apologized and kissed her after their last argument, and things had only been getting better from that moment on. The instant he’d finally locked his lips with hers, giving in to their desire, had felt like a real breakthrough, and during the next few days they’d spent most of the time together, sharing small, intimate moments inside their cold space ship.

Vegeta still refused to have sexual relations with her, but he was gradually opening up, lying behind her as they watched movies on the television, gently caressing her hair and kissing her tenderly. At times, when she fell asleep on the couch, she’d wake up between his arms, either on the sofa or in bed, and he’d hold her firmly, almost possessively against his strong body. He barely talked, but the way he looked at her made her feel loved and desired in ways she’d never experienced before. It was almost as if his barriers were falling down, and the side of him that had always stubbornly and desperately attempted to keep her at a safe distance was slowly giving way to a new, more honest, almost vulnerable part of him. A side of Vegeta she’d barely had access to in the past, and she didn’t quite know what to do about it, afraid of being too bold or aggressive and scare him away. And yet, despite the deep gratitude she felt about these new developments in their relationship, she had to confess, she wanted more. She’d finally admitted to herself that she loved this man, and she knew that, if Vegeta didn’t eventually love her back just as much as she did him, her heart would be shattered, broken into a million pieces.

“I’m not… I’m not afraid, Vegeta. It’s just that I…”

“You, what?” He prodded gently, his hands never ceasing his excruciatingly loving ministrations.

“That planet… I have… I have never been to a place like that, I guess I… I’m just a bit nervous, that’s all…”   

The Prince frowned, deep down unsurprised by the woman’s reaction. There was a good reason why he’d waited until the last minute to tell Bulma the planet they were about to visit was, in fact, a pleasure planet. A kind of planet male warriors often visited in search of some erotic performances, mostly in the form of harmless exotic dancing, but he knew some of the planet’s females would also perform other types of _‘services’_ for the right amount of money.

Vegeta had visited Planet Virggo a handful of times in his youth, always encouraged by Nappa and Raditz, and while both warriors indulged in their depraved tastes, he’d just disappear, flying away from the large cities and spending long periods of time by himself in the wilderness. On two occasions, he lied to them, telling them he’d bedded a female here and there, but it was only so the bigger Saiyans would cease their teasing and leave him alone. Of course, he’d never slept with the type of women that inhabited the planet, much preferring to take care of his sexual needs with regular women he met on some of the worlds he’d visited through the years.

“I see…” He muttered, wrapping his arms around her and pressing her soft form against his robust one, inwardly cursing himself for his weakness when it came to his mate. A gentle, pure woman like Bulma didn’t belong in the place he was about to take her to. He kept telling himself she’d been the one asking, virtually imploring for it, and he knew leaving her on Planet Z365 wouldn’t have been an option either, and yet, he felt conflicted, almost tempted to just change the course of their ship and take her somewhere else. But he couldn’t do that, _not now_ , not when he was so close to killing one of the few ghosts from the past that still haunted him.

One of his arms remained immovable on her waist, keeping her beautiful body close to him while he languidly run his other hand, up and down across her back in a slow motion, in an effort to relax her, to soothe her agitated nerves before they reached their destination. And the little trick must have worked, since he gradually felt her breathing slow down as she responded to his touch, also encircling his strong waist with her frail arms and pressing her cheek against his chest. For a moment, he wished he hadn’t been already wearing his armor, the new armor his woman had made for him, so he could better feel her embrace, but he figured it was for the best. He was a warrior, after all: a warrior that was about to face an old enemy just mere hours from now. It wouldn’t do for him to deal with one of his childhood demons with an unclear mind.

“Don’t be afraid, woman,” he murmured, subtly kissing the top of her head as he buried his nose in her shiny, feathery, turquoise locks.

His words made Bulma raise her head slowly, finally looking him in the eye once again.

“I’m not afraid, Vegeta,” she honestly responded. “You are one of the strongest men alive, aren’t you?”         

He immediately replied, in the most confident tone he could summon. She kept looking at him with those large, supplicant blue eyes, begging him to bring her a confidence she was clearly lacking in that moment.

“That, I am, Bulma. Is that what you fear, woman?” He enquired again, secretly offended by the implication of Bulma not trusting his strength or his ability to keep her safe at all times. “I promise you have nothing to fear. Not by my side,” he vowed, the arm encircling her tiny waist pressing her protectively against him. He’d never allow anyone to hurt this woman, even if he had to give his life to ensure her protection. He’d truly experienced the loss of a loved one, something he hadn’t really gone through since his childhood, when he saw his son from the future die by the hand of Cell, and the thought of ever seeing Bulma suffer under similar circumstances drove him absolutely mad with fury.

The small woman nodded in agreement, never letting go of her man either.

“I know, Vegeta. I know… I just…”

“Then, what is it, woman?”

Bulma took a deep breath, deeply ashamed of what she was about to discuss with her Prince; a woman as cocky and self-assured as she normally was, had a hard time dealing with her relatively new insecurities.

“Do I really have to wear that dress?” She whispered shakily, like a little girl reticently refusing to follow the rules.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Gods, Vegeta… Seriously? It’s so damn small! I just, I don’t feel comfortable wearing it, that’s all…”

“And yet you brought it with you. Why?”

Bulma shrugged, timidly avoiding his penetrating gaze.

“I don’t know… I just grabbed a bunch of clothes from my closet while I was packing. I guess I didn’t even check out everything I encapsulated.”

She was lying, of course. She knew damn well why she’d brought a wide selection of raunchy clothes and underwear. It’d been in case she found herself exactly in the position she was in right now, alone inside an enclosed space with her Prince. After all, a woman never knew when she might need a little help to seduce a man, who had technically abandoned her, all over again. Still, those sexy items were meant just for him and him alone to enjoy, and certainly not to be worn out and about in public, especially on some foreign planet full of horny warriors and beautiful, exotic females that sold their bodies to the highest bidder.

“Still,” Vegeta retorted. “It is your dress, woman. Is it not?”

“Yeah…”

“So, why own a dress you do not want to wear anyway?” He asked with honest curiosity.

_Women were still such an enigma to him…_

Bulma felt her discomfiture and frustration grow by the second. Was it really that hard for him to comprehend why she’d feel uncomfortable wearing such a thing in public? Did she have to spell out everything for him?

“It’s an old dress, Vegeta. I haven’t worn it since I was a teenager, when I used to go out clubbing…”

The Prince shook his head, still not understanding where she was going with this.

“So?”

“What do you mean, _‘so’_? So, I hadn’t just had a baby back then! And I didn’t have to wear it on a planet full of women that are… You know…”

“Women that are what, Bulma?” He prodded once more, finally guessing where his mate’s fears were originating from.

“Well… Those women… If, if those guys pay to see them dance and… You know… All that other stuff… They must be really pretty, right? I just…” She shrugged shyly again, not even recognizing herself.

_‘Had she really changed that much?’_

Motherhood and all the madness she’d been going through ever since Vegeta had left her had really made a number on her confidence, hadn’t they? The woman she was today was a far cry from the carefree, cock-sure teenage girl that used to take the world by storm with Yamcha and his baseball buddies back in the day. And it wasn’t that she missed those frivolous times at all but, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself that she wished she’d get some of that legendary cockiness back once again.

Vegeta tilted his head to the side slightly.

_So, that’s what it was…_

His woman was feeling insecure because she had birthed his heir just mere months ago.

He knew he’d have to choose his words wisely if he wanted to make Bulma feel better about herself. He kept clutching her greedily against him, his hands lazily exploring her body through the fluffy fabric of her white robe as he felt her soft, curvy form in his hands.

_She felt as perfect as she’d always been._

True, he hadn’t made love to her ever since she’d had Trunks, but he’d seen her in her underwear just a few days earlier and she’d looked so damn delicious his body had even reacted to her beauty against his will, much to his shame. His eyes just kept staring at her, and all he could think of was that she’d never looked lovelier. When he’d first seen her on Planet Z365, she’d looked a tad too thin and gaunt, which had certainly concerned him at the time but, during these past few days, he’d made sure she ate regularly and she’d put on some much needed weight, filling in her curvy petite frame perfectly and finally going back to her old self. 

“Bulma, look at me,” Vegeta commanded in a low but firm voice, letting go of her body but holding her radiant face in his hands one more time. “I am a Prince,” he simply declared, as if that explained everything.

Bulma just held his gaze, confused about his brief statement.

 _Of course, he was a Prince!_ He’d reminded her that just about a million times before, but this time such a declaration seemed to hold some hidden meaning behind it that she couldn’t grasp. All she knew was that the tenderness he’d been displaying towards her these past few days and in that very moment, with his rough fingertips delicately cupping her cheeks, where making her giddy with excitement, almost making her forget her own uneasiness about her physique.    

“Yes, I know…” She finally replied in a vague attempt to get him to finally make his point.

Vegeta kept staring at her with solemn eyes, making her quickly realize he was dead serious about the thoughts he was sharing with her.  

“Then you must already know that a Prince only surrounds himself with the best of everything.”

Bulma blinked slowly, frowning in confusion as she tried to put two and two together.

_And then it hit her…_

_‘Was he talking about…?’_

He placed the lightest kiss on her soft, glossy lips, making her briefly close her eyes and inhale sharply. When he finally separated his mouth from hers, she was practically melting by his touch, looking at him in bewilderment and curiosity as she struggled to keep her knees from shaking. Only Vegeta’s touch had such a powerful effect on her, and every time they shared a moment of intimacy, no matter how innocent or insignificant it may seem, she could only wish it’d last forever.

“Tell me, Bulma… How many women have I chosen to bring with me on this ship?”

There was brief silence, an intense stillness full of honesty and unspoken feelings.

“Vegeta…” Bulma whispered, frowning pitifully and feeling her eyes burning, about to shed tears of love and relief.

_Gods…_

_‘The best…’_

_He’d just called her the best woman…_

“Vegeta, I…” She said again, but the Prince cut her off, unconsciously running his tongue across his lips and placing a stubborn finger on hers, shushing her gently. He had to get out of the room; if the woman started crying or getting too sentimental he didn’t know what he’d do. The more time he spent with his little mate, the more fond of her he seemed to grow and, the worst part was that, even though he’d already experienced such emotions with Bulma in the past, lately he’d found himself unwilling to leave and push her away as he’d previously done. If anything, a part of him was beginning to enjoy her unashamed demonstrations of love and affection towards him.

She made him feel _good_ , as if he were the best man in the world, and given his history, he knew such a thing was objectively impossible, but then again, he knew the woman was smart.

_What if she was able to see something in him he wasn’t able to see on his own?_

“No more tears, woman…” He gently scolded her, delicately running the back of his hand across her glowing skin on last time. “Now get dressed and look your best. Have no fear, Bulma.”

Bulma remained silent for a moment, trying to assimilate his words. It was unlike Vegeta to flatter or compliment her in excess, except perhaps, during their lovemaking in the past, when sometimes soft words of encouragement unwittingly escaped his lips in the middle of the night.

She smiled lovingly at him, getting her emotions in check but still refusing to let go of him. He looked so attractive wearing his brand-new armor and exuding such great confidence that, even though she was afraid for him, fearing that this mysterious enemy he was about to face would end up hurting him, deep down she believed everything would be all right in the end. There was something in his strong, comforting presence that felt like a warm blanket enveloping and soothing her, keeping her safe from harm.  

“Okay,” Bulma finally whispered, promptly placing a quick peck on his cheek before releasing his waist, taking a couple of steps back. “I’ll be ready in a few minutes…”

Vegeta smirked, pleased to see his words had been enough to instill his woman some of her confidence back. He was painfully aware of his poor command of language outside of anything related to fighting and battle, and even though he was proud of being Saiyan and of his warrior status, at times he wished he were able to better express his thoughts and emotions to Bulma, knowing just how much his silence or poor choice of words had hurt her in the past.

He nodded in acquiescence and left the room, giving the woman some privacy while he went to the central console of the ship to check on the navigation system for final confirmation that everything was in order. He had to give it to Bulma, the new model she’d designed by far out bested her last ship, and this one run even more smoothly than the previous one.

Just as he was going through the details of his target one final time to make sure he left nothing to chance, he heard the unmistakable sounds of Bulma’s steps entering the room. When he turned around, he had to make an extraordinary effort not to let his jaw open wide in shock.

She looked positively incredible, _perhaps too incredible..._

Then again, that was the point, wasn’t it?

Bulma was standing a few steps away from him, and her face, which had first had still featured a tinge of insecurity, was now adorned by a devastating smile, the smile of a woman whose mate’s eyes had just told her she still had _‘it’_.

“How do I look?” Bulma purred in a seductive voice coated with false naivete.

The Prince clutched the tablet he was holding in his hands a little tighter and he swallowed heavily. He could feel his entire body screaming in desire for this woman, wanting nothing more than to grab her and have his way with her repeatedly on the floor of the gravity room.

“You look…”

“Yes?”

“You look decent, woman,” he finally declared with difficulty.

Bulma pouted like a little girl. “That’s it? Just _‘decent’_?”

Her damned adorable expression made his cheeks flush crimson, and he took his eyes away from her, pretending to be paying attention to the small device in his hands in a futile attempt to stop looking at the delightful curves that looked as if they were about to burst from her little black dress.

She walked towards him, standing by his side and placing her hand on his shoulder, playfully taking a peek at the small screen Vegeta wasn’t actually looking at.

The blasted woman smelled so good he could barely control himself by now, so he tried to find a way to distract her and keep a distance between them. Even though these past few days they’d finally given in to each other in many ways, there was still that final, unseen line he didn’t know if he should cross. He couldn’t imagine what the consequences would be for their relationship if he finally took her and made love to her with everything he had…

“I thought you weren’t going to interfere in my plans…” He implied firmly, still avoiding her gaze, almost dizzy by her sweet scent as he kept showing feigned interest on the contents displayed on the small tablet.

“Uh? What do you mean?”

“You’re being nosy, woman…”

“Ah! Not really,” she replied, finally understanding what he was referring to. “I’m not trying to read your information, Vegeta. I can’t even understand that language… No… I was just wondering…”

Vegeta turned his head to the side, finally daring to set his eyes on her once again.

“Then what is it?”

“I was just wondering if you’d let me take a look at your tablet sometime. You know, when you’re done with your… With your mission…” She answered timidly, feeling as affected by Vegeta’s near presence as he was in that moment.

He looked so sexy wearing the new armor she’d specifically designed for him during his absence, and his dark, flaring eyes were inspecting her closely, making her body warm up as if she was wearing a dress made out of fire. The chemistry between them was undeniable, and she desperately wondered what it would take for him to finally stop being so horribly obstinate and take that final step before she went absolutely crazy.

“We’ll see…” Vegeta awkwardly responded, unsurprised by the little genius’ interest in any kind of foreign technology. “Are you ready?”

Bulma nodded, her eyes wide open and never leaving his. Even though she could perceive a change in his attitude towards her, no doubt the result of him being in the process of mentally preparing himself to _‘go into battle’_ , she allowed herself one final moment of intimacy by slowly, very slowly, stroking his bronzed cheek affectionately. Her gentle touch made Vegeta’s eyelids very heavy all of a sudden, and he blinked lazily a few times, entranced by her light touch.

“Vegeta,” Bulma whispered with bated breath. “I know I promised I wouldn’t ask you about this… This man... But, I just…” She released a trembling sigh. “You are stronger than him, right?”

“I am,” he replied softly but confidently.

“Are you…? Are you absolutely sure?”

The Saiyan stared at her, deep in thought. For some reason, he would have found Bulma’s doubts almost offensive in the past but, now, he knew she simply cared about him, and he felt secretly grateful for her concerns. Thankful that someone, especially this extraordinary woman, was worried about his safety.

Before he had time to regret his actions, he impulsively held her fragile body and crushed it tightly against him, forcing a sweet gasp out of Bulma’s lips as she panted nervously against his neck. Vegeta languidly kissed her temple several times, basking in the pleasure of his little mate’s presence by his side before they landed on Planet Virggo.

_Before he had to shield himself from his own emotions towards her, for a few hours at least…_

He was actually looking forward, not only to finally getting rid of a very significant ghost from his tumultuous past, but also to the entire week he’d promised Bulma he’d dedicate entirely to her. The thought of wholly devoting his time and energy to his woman was both terrifying and exciting for, if he was brutally honest with himself, he’d never done such a thing before, always being the kind of man who’d put his own needs and interests before anyone else’s.

_Even Bulma’s, much to his shame…_

He knew he hadn’t treated her the way she deserved, and he’d already made the decision that he’d give her his all when he finalized his business and made peace with that part of his past. Whatever love was left within his heart, he was going to give it to her, at least for the next few days.   

“Bulma,” he mumbled against her skin, nuzzling her silky, wavy hair; the way his warm breath caressed her made Bulma shiver in delight and anticipation. “I’ve been stronger than that bastard since I was ten years of age.”

Bulma looked at him one final time, her eyes filled with a thousand questions about how was it possible for Vegeta’s old enemy to still be alive if the Prince had been stronger than him from such a young age. For an instant, she mediated on whether or not she should ask him any more questions, but she finally chose to remain silent, not wanting to intrude on things her mate possibly wouldn’t feel comfortable sharing with her. After all, she’d made him a promise to respect his choices without any interference from her part. Up to this point, Vegeta’s actions had all made sense, and she had no reason whatsoever to think otherwise in this occasion.

“Okay,” she finally replied with a comforting, trusting smile on her lips, trying to show her man her full support and understanding. “I trust you.”

Vegeta gave her slender body one final affectionate squeeze before letting go of her.

“Good,” he said with aplomb. “Have no fear, Bulma. Just follow my instructions and everything will be all right.” He turned around, taking a seat on the pilot’s chair and inviting her to do the same by his side, on the co-pilot’s. “Fasten your safety belt, woman, we’ll be landing in a few minutes”.

Bulma followed his orders without hesitation, quietly sitting beside him. The warrior, surprised by her uncommon docility gave her a side glance, only to find her deep in thought. He could tell she was anxious, but true to her word, she’d been extremely respectful towards him at all times, never questioning the mission or his commands.

On her part, the heiress kept mentally going over and over again through Vegeta’s plan, which was, in truth, fairly simple. She was about to play the part of his bed slave, which was the reason why she had to wear such scanty clothing, so it wouldn’t look as if she meant much to her _‘Master’_ , certainly not enough to want to cover her up to stop other men from looking at her. She’d been advised to avoid eye contact at all times, never start a conversation and only speak when spoken to.

Vegeta’s mysterious _‘target’_ was, apparently, co-owner of one of those places which were the equivalent of Earth’s strip-clubs, and he had a contact there he trusted and who’d watch over her while Vegeta dealt with what Bulma assumed was an old enemy. She had no idea why her mate would trust someone enough to leave her alone with them for an indeterminate amount of time, but as usual, she concluded that he’d had good reasons to do so and chose not to question his choices.

Bulma propped her head back on the headrest, closing her eyes and taking deep breaths to calm down, reminding herself to be brave and focusing on the thought of the week together Vegeta had committed to. Every now and then, she’d glimpse at her mate, who was now putting his white gloves on and keeping his eyes on the screen. The record amount of time in which he’d learnt how to pilot her new ship reminded her, as always, of how intelligent the Saiyan Prince really was. Indeed, Vegeta’s skills went way beyond his natural ability for battling in combat.

They finally landed, surprisingly smoothly, on what Bulma quickly learned, as she peeked through one of the vehicle’s windows, was some kind of harbor where a handful of other space ships were parked still on a straight line.

Bulma did a double check inside her small silver clutch, making sure she was carrying her share of capsules with her. They’d both decided to split them, carrying half of them each, and Vegeta would also encapsulate and safely keep the ship with him just in case anything went wrong. The woman had also placed a small button inside Vegeta’s armor, and she had one herself on her flimsy dress, camouflaged under the appearance of a tiny ornamental brooch, so she could signal him in case she found herself in danger.

After verifying that everything was in order, Bulma finally stood from her chair, finding Vegeta standing by the closed door already, waiting patiently for her. She re-arranged her tiny black dress, making sure everything was in place and she joined him, sharing a quick glance with him and holding the arm he was chivalrously offering.

“Remember, Bulma, never walk in front of me and do not show defiance of any kind,” he reminded her softly, his gloved hands caressing the delicate fingers of the hand she was holding him with one final time.

Bulma squeezed his arm comfortingly, offering him a confident, optimistic smile.

“Understood,” she simply replied.

Vegeta opened the gate, walking slowly, ever mindful of the woman’s shoes, a pair of sparkly high heels that made her legs look spectacular, and after they finally reached the ground, he encapsulated the ship, putting it inside his armor and ignoring the snooping stares a few of the warriors gave the newly-arrived couple.     

They walked through noisy, crowded streets, packed with fighters of all races and sizes. The big city was full of strange vehicles and a wide variety of neon lights, advertising their _‘attractions’_ in the form of large billboards featuring female-shaped figures and what Bulma assumed were words written in a foreign language she couldn’t understand.

It was quite a surreal scene, and the only thing keeping her grounded was Vegeta’s steady presence by her side who, wearing a fierce scowl on his face, kept her hand firmly pressed between his folded arm, silently reassuring her and making her feel free from harm despite the alien madness surrounding her. The beautiful woman caught quite a few lecherous glances from a large number of males, and yet, the moment those males took one look at her terrifying _‘Master’_ , they immediately looked away in fear. Whether all of those people knew who Vegeta actually was, she didn’t know, all she knew was that, by the time they reached their last stop, she’d never felt safer in her entire life than by her mate’s side.

A really short man in a purple suit looked the couple up and down with palpable disinterest.

“Is she up for sale?” He finally asked Vegeta, completely ignoring Bulma as if she were a doll with no voice of her own. Being regarded as an object didn’t sit well with Bulma, who was now inwardly fuming, forcibly biting her tongue in an effort not to mess up her mate’s plans, and the almost imperceptible growl that made Vegeta’s body vibrate at the implication of selling his woman, told her the Saiyan wasn’t very happy about the green dwarf’s attitude towards her either.

“I wish to speak to Teekoh,” Vegeta finally declared, his whole body already tense and ready to attack the perverted idiot at any minute if he gave him any trouble.

“Tsk! He’s busy right now…”  

Vegeta inhaled deeply through his nose, clutching Bulma’s hand even closer, before replying in the most neutral voice he could produce.

“Call him.”

The short man rolled his eyes at the Saiyan’s insistence. “What do you want, anyway?”

_That was it._

_He was done with this shit._

He had to get inside and stop all those filthy imbeciles in the streets from looking at his woman, _right fucking now._

Vegeta slowly lifted the index finger of his free hand and threateningly pointed it right between the eyes of the miniature idiot.

“Ask me about my business again and see what happens,” he muttered, a malicious smirk spreading across his lips.

“Wha…?”

A small ki ball sparked out of the Prince’s finger, making the short man’s eyes widen in sheer panic.

“Take me to Teekoh. Now.”

“Uh… Uh… Sure! Sure, man! No problem! F-Follow m-me!” The dwarf stuttered, his skin gradually turning from his natural green to a sickly yellowish tone.

He turned around, not even looking back to see if the mysterious couple was following him, walking at the quickest pace his short legs allowed him to. He stopped at one of the bars, offering them a sit as he walked into the kitchens, going in search of the man the visitors were looking for. Vegeta waited with Bulma in one of the corners, with both their backs facing the wall, and he stood protectively but casually in front of her.

The green man returned right away. “P-Please follow me… This way…”

He guided them through the jam-packed club in the direction of a more secluded space in the V.I.P. area.

“Teekoh will be with you in a m-minute… Would you like me to prepare you or your lady a drink?”

“No, that will be all. You may leave now,” the warrior replied authoritatively, pleased by the change of stance in the little green bastard.

Once the two lovers found themselves alone, and after cautiously inspecting his surroundings, he finally let go of Bulma’s arm.

“Take a sit, Bulma,” he asked kindly.

Bulma followed his instructions, feeling incredibly awkward under these new circumstances. She sat on one of the plush burgundy couches, curiously looking around, and rapidly noticing this place wasn’t too different from the strip joints she’d visited back on Earth. Such places weren’t really her sort of thing, but she recalled a particularly cringeworthy night when Yamcha had convinced her to go to one of those locals to _‘spice things up a little’_ in their almost-dead relationship. She reluctantly agreed, thinking that perhaps doing some sexy dancing for her increasingly soft boyfriend would be a bit of fun…

It turned out to be a big mistake when her ex-boyfriend ended up spending the entire night drooling over the semi-naked bimbos pole-dancing with their crotch right on his very eager face while he ignored her entirely as she entertained herself with a bottle of Champagne, sitting alone in a corner. When she confronted him about it a couple of days later, the man simply told her it was all in her head and even blamed her, accusing her of getting too drunk to enjoy her time with him.

Her ex-lover was a far cry from her current mate, who was stoically standing by her side, arms crossed, completely unconcerned by the almost nude females that could still be seen through a large glass window placed behind the dark red sofa.    

A welcoming, almost cheerful voice interrupted her shameful memories.

“My Prince…” A man said, entering the room and locking the door behind him with a large, golden key.

He was tall and thin, and even though Bulma had never met anyone from his particular race before, she guessed he was older than Vegeta, who’d uncrossed his arms by now, placing one of his strong hands firmly on the man’s shoulders, almost in a friendly manner.

The Saiyan greeted him with ease. “Teekoh.”

“It’s good to see you doing so well, My Prince…” The man continued.

Bulma felt silently amazed by the joy the enigmatic male seemed to genuinely profess. And, judging by Vegeta’s body language, the Saiyan appeared to be happy to see him too. Despite the very obvious, reverent respect the thin man showed Vegeta, they both looked almost like a couple old friends that hadn’t seen each other in a long time.

“Is everything ready?” Vegeta asked.

“Yes, My Prince. The cameras in this room have been disconnected, and I’ve already reported to my superior that it has been a malfunction.”

“How long before they send someone to do some repairs?”

“At this hour of the night, at least three hours, possibly even more.”

“What about that window?” Vegeta inquired again, pointing at the large glass window behind Bulma’s back from where the entire night club could be seen.

“Don’t worry, My Prince. It’s tinted glass, the exterior can be seen from here but you and your, um, your lady friend cannot be seen from the outside,” the taller man replied confidently.

“Is he upstairs?”

“Y-yes, My Prince…”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Very well…” Vegeta adjusted his white gloves, and Bulma could immediately perceive that unmistakable look of excitement and anticipation written all over his masculine face.

_He looked so devastatingly handsome it hurt…_

“This is one of my concubines,” he said, nodding in Bulma’s direction. “She is not one of my favorites, but she’s still a decent bed warmer… And most of all, she is _mine_.” He possessively emphasized his last word, looking the man fiercely in the eye and, all of a sudden, any trace of friendly camaraderie evaporated. “You do remember what happens to people that try to touch what’s mine, do you not?” He warned threateningly.

Oddly enough, the man didn’t seem too fazed by Vegeta’s suddenly aggressive speech, but he bowed respectfully, tranquilizing the warrior nonetheless.

“I do, My Prince. Rest assured, I will watch over her during your absence.”

“She does not have the right to speak nor to be spoken to, and if anyone tries to get anywhere near her, I am to be contacted at once. Understood?”

“Yes, My Prince.”

 Vegeta took one final look at his mate and turned around self-assuredly, abandoning the room and leaving Bulma alone with Teekoh. The tall man smiled kindly at her, and something told Bulma this man had already guessed by now that she wasn’t really one of Vegeta’s concubines. It made sense, she thought, after all, if he was someone that truly knew anything about her mate, he probably knew the Saiyan’s moral code went against anything having to do with forcing a woman against her will or using or abusing her in any way.

Teekoh walked to the door, blocking it by placing a large, heavy chair behind it and sitting patiently on it. Bulma analyzed him silently, getting the impression that this was a man who’d spent most of his life beneath other people. There was a sense of calm acceptance in his submissive behavior, and yet, he looked at peace, sitting on his chair as he waited meekly for Vegeta to get rid of his boss. Why Vegeta trusted this man and why was this man helping him, she had no idea, but she finally decided that, if her mate trusted him, so would she. So, Bulma lifted her legs, resting her tired feet on a small coffee table in front of the couch, and propped her head back, trying to relax as she waited for Vegeta to do what he’d come here to do.

In that very moment, Vegeta was soundlessly walking through a long, dark corridor, getting closer and closer to his destination: the office that awaited him in the end of it. The place smelled of hard liquor and humidity, and it pleased him to discover his old enemy had ended up working in such a filthy, repugnant place.

_It certainly suited the bastard…_

Once he finally reached the door of his office, he knocked softly on it, wanting to prolong his revenge as much as he could.

A cold, raspy voice quickly replied. “Yeah?”   

_Silence._

“Who is it?”

“…”

“Listen, asshole! Whoever the fuck you are, I’m not opening the fucking door for you! So, get in or get the fuck away from…!”

Vegeta smirked cruelly, turning the door knob and gradually opening the door. His entire body was tense, ready to face whatever was waiting for him behind that old, wooden door, but nothing could prepare him for the pitiful spectacle he was about to encounter.

There, lazily sitting behind a timeworn mahogany desk, inside a room filled with cigarette smoke and lightened by a sad, dusty lightbulb, an old demon from the past sat miserably, staring open mouthed at him.

“Well, I’ll be damned…” The green lizard finally muttered.

_This?_

_This was what he’d been waiting for throughout most of his entire adulthood?_

The man in front of him was very different from the monster he still recalled from his nightmares. True, he’d never been the great warrior his brother had been, but _this_ … This _thing_ … This couldn’t be the one he was seeking revenge from…

He was grossly overweight, his large belly protruding over the tight waist of his brown, worn down pants. His green hair, which in the old times had been just as long and abundant as his sibling’s, was now much shorter, tied back in an oily, stringy ponytail in a pathetic attempt to conceal the fact that the old man was very obviously going bald.

“I’d heard some rumors about you, but… Damn! I couldn’t believe they were true…” The lizard said, bringing his cigarette to his mouth and inhaling the poisonous smoke with trembling fingers, which Vegeta wasn’t sure were the result of fear or just his overall poor health. The monster coughed loudly, his lungs filled with phlegm, making such revolting noises, the Saiyan couldn’t help but snarl in pure disgust.

The man smirked with a mixture of evilness and amusement. “What’s the matter, _Lord Vegeta_?” He asked mockingly. “Am I not what you were expecting to see?” He inhaled again, followed by another incontrollable coughing fit. “I guess time hasn’t been kind to me, uh?”

“That must be the only truth I’ve ever heard coming from your lips,” Vegeta finally answered. “Time has repeatedly kicked you in the ass… I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised…”

“Well… Not all of us are lucky enough to possess Saiyan genes, uh? _Little Monkey_?”

The oh, too familiar insult made Vegeta groan in rage, but he decided not to take the bait. At least, not yet. If he was totally honest with himself, he didn’t quite know how to act anymore. Out of all the possible scenarios he’d projected in his mind, he’d never pictured finding Zonzon in such a deplorable state.

“Man… I told Frieza so many fucking times to stop toying with you and just fucking kill you already…” He chuckled breathlessly. “But the bastard wouldn’t listen to me. He said you were such a useful _Little Monkey_ , doing all his dirty work for him…”

“Well, we all know how things worked out for him in the end...” Vegeta stated arrogantly.

“Oh, yeah… A Saiyan ended up killing him. What a shame it wasn’t you, uh?”

The Prince raised his head proudly, still unwilling to play the old bastard’s game. “It was _still_ a Saiyan, after all, the one who ended his life.”

Zonzon shrugged.

“Anyway… Who gives a shit? He’s dead, and we’re here. That’s all that matters in the end.”

“Mmm… You are here, indeed…” Vegeta said in agreement, running his eyes once more across the tiny grimy room. “I guess it’s fitting that you ended up in this place. You were always Frieza’s bitch, and now you’re just a fucking pimp…”

“Meh… A man has to make a living one way or another, am I right?”

The Prince remained silent, waiting to see where the lizard was going with this. The more he looked at him, the more the feeling of revulsion grew and grew. His skin looked like yellowish wrinkled paper, certainly not the result of natural ageing, but that of a life purely devoted to living in vice.

“So… _My Lord_ …” Zonzon said, putting out his cigarette in a half-full ashtray with his thick, dirty, stained fingers. “Are you here to kill me or to get Frieza’s share?”

Vegeta tilted his head to the side, not quite understanding what the monster was referring to. “Frieza’s share?”

The lizard laughed loudly, seemingly finding the whole situation entertaining.

_Far too much, in Vegeta’s opinion…_

“What? You didn’t know Frieza got a share of every single business on the planet?”

“Is that so?” Vegeta asked malevolently.

 _Why was he even surprised?_ After all, Frieza had always tried to get his hands on every single credit he could, even when he was so damn wealthy that acquiring any more wealth wouldn’t have made any significant difference to him anymore. And, for a man with an endless and constant supply of concubines, getting money from exploiting women wasn’t too farfetched.

“So, I was right, uh? You’re here to kill me…”

Zonzon smirked almost playfully, still unperturbed by Vegeta’s murderous intentions.

_‘What the fuck was happening here?’_

“Go ahead,” he challenged, leaning back on his tattered chair, arms lying nonchalantly on its armrests.

There was a moment of silence in the room, and Vegeta’s eyes remained fixated on the bastard’s repugnantly confident face as his mind raced at a million miles per hour trying to understand why the guy would let him kill him without even putting up a fight. It was obvious Zonzon would be the one to lose in the end anyway but, still, where was the honor in sitting on a chair waiting indifferently, almost invitingly, for someone to kill you?

And then it hit him.

_The decrepit lizard wanted to die…_

_And who wouldn’t under his current circumstances?_

An ageing man in poor health, probably feeling like shit every single day of his life after having spent his younger years living decadently…

“What’s the matter, _Little Monkey_? Wasn’t that what you always wanted?” Zonzon grinned, giving Vegeta a glimpse of his almost toothless foul mouth. “Oh… I know… This wasn’t what you were expecting, was it?” He put his hands on his massive belly, rubbing it lazily as he mocked the Saiyan Prince. “I bet you were expecting to see the man I was… The one that could get you bleeding and on your knees with a single finger…”

“If I recall correctly, I gave you the beating of your life by the time I was ten years old, old man,” Vegeta retorted, inwardly disgusted by the traumatic memories the lizard evoked.

Zonzon’s favorite sport had been to beat him up, almost weekly, for several years. For a while, the child he was hadn’t been strong enough to defend himself, not that he wouldn’t try, unsuccessfully every single time. But, of course, his Saiyan genes had allowed him to get stronger and stronger after each beating until, one glorious day, the tables were turned and he kicked the lizard’s ass. The fucking coward had immediately run to Frieza asking for help and revenge, and revenge he got, when Frieza beat up the kid so badly he almost ended his life. It’d been one of the most brutal thrashings his old Master had punished him with, and the worst part was, Vegeta never knew exactly why.

Indeed, Zonzon had always been one of the Emperor’s favorites, despite the fact that, even though he was a decent warrior, he wasn’t one of the strongest ones either, and if there was something Frieza respected above everything else, it was physical strength.

After Vegeta had finally become stronger than him, Zonzon apparently requested his Master to transfer him somewhere else, and Frieza granted him permission to leave the Forces, lending him a small fortune to run a business somewhere far away from the three remaining Saiyans alive.

What was the reason behind Frieza’s generosity? He never knew. The only explanation plausible to him was that Zonzon was Zarbon’s older brother, and Zarbon had always been one of his Master’s absolute favorites. There’d even been rumors that such favoritism went beyond Zarbon’s natural fighting ability, and that Frieza was also enamored of his physical beauty and his rumored fluid sexuality, taking full advantage of both for years.

After Zonzon left Frieza’s Army, Vegeta only heard reports about the older man here and there: stories of him investing his newfound wealth on some very successful night-club on a pleasure planet, somewhere in another galaxy. Followed, years later, by stories of his decadence, and how his vicious nature had made him lose most of his wealth, even gambling most of his shares of his own business away, thus ending up as mere co-owner of the strip joint.

As a young man, Vegeta had wanted nothing more than to find the bastard, fight him and end his life in battle. But Nappa and Raditz had always discouraged him from following such plans, begging him to keep the eye on the big picture by biding his time, training hard and obeying Frieza’s orders for years until he’d be able to ascend to Super Saiyan status and reclaim his Birth Right, taking full control and ruling over the Universe.

_And now, well…_

All of those plans had come true, even if things sometimes hadn’t happened exactly as he would have wished them to in his youth. And there he was, standing in front of his old torturer, ready to end his life, but realizing he couldn’t go through with it. Not because Zonzon didn’t deserve to die, but because Vegeta was finally getting the impression that keeping him alive would make a better punishment.

After all, what could be worse for a man who’d been the old Emperor’s favorite than living a small life? A life of mediocrity where he was reminded, every single goddamned day, that it was he and he alone, the one responsible for his countless failures.

_A life lived in filth._

_It’d be a perfect ending for a less than perfect life…_

“You are right,” Vegeta finally declared, smugly lifting his chin in arrogant dominance. “You are not a man worth dying by my hand. In fact, you’re barely even a man anymore… There’d be no honor in killing you.”

“Ah… _Honor_ … You and your stupid honor. You always had far too many principles for being nothing more than a dirty _Little Monkey_ …”

The Saiyan smirked, feeling a strange sense of superiority and relief when he understood the disgusting creature’s offensive words couldn’t even touch him anymore.   

And he thought of Bulma, _his Bulma_ , waiting patiently for him downstairs, and he realized he’d much rather go back to her and devote his time and energies on her than on any other being on that disturbing planet.

Vegeta turned around, ready to leave the small, nasty office without even so much as a goodbye.

“Wait, Vegeta! Are you serious?” The lizard asked in complete disbelief.

“You’re not even worth my time anymore,” Vegeta concluded, already on his way out, giving him his back. “Good luck, old man…”

The Saiyan opened the door, only to find the green dwarf waiting uncomplainingly behind it. A look of fear crossed the miniature man’s face, starting to sweat profusely as he attempted to explain himself.

“Oh! I-I’m s-sorry, Sir… I… I j-just wanted t-to bring my b-boss this receipt…” He clarified, shakily waving a now wrinkled piece of paper in front of him.

“He’s all yours,” Vegeta replied nonchalantly. “My business here has concluded.”

Just as he was about to finally exit the room, the small man said something that changed his plans entirely.

“O-Oh! Well… Um… Thanks for visiting! I-I hope y-you have a great t-time with your lady d-downstairs!”

_‘Fuck!’_

_Did that filthy piece of shit just ruin everything?_

“Well! Vegeta! You brought a female with you?” Zonzon’s repugnantly amused voice asked in the background.

_‘Yes, that green idiot had just destroyed his plans…’_

Vegeta shot daggers at the green dwarf, muttering threateningly.

“Get the Hell out of here before I change my mind, right fucking now.”

The short guy didn’t need to be told twice, running away as fast as he could.

“My, my… I’m impressed, Vegeta… Who is she? Your little whore? A concubine? How many have you got? More than Frieza did? I thought you weren’t even interested in those things…”

Vegeta stood still in his spot, having the dreaded feeling he knew how this conversation would end now that the bastard had learned of Bulma’s presence.

“I am not,” he declared hostilely, still avoiding the ghastly lizard’s gaze, who was laughing stridently, his phlegmy raspy voice bursting into another disgusting coughing fit.

“Mmm… Really? Is she your mate, then? Man! Is she pretty? I bet she’s hot… She must be if you’d rather bring her here instead of fucking one of my girls…”

The Prince growled menacingly, turning around and facing the old monster once again.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut your fucking mouth right now…”

_He didn’t._

“Shit! Was I right? You actually have your own woman? Ha! Is she in the V.I.P. room where one of my cameras mysteriously malfunctioned tonight?”

Vegeta’s fury kept growing internally, as well as an intense, fiercely protective emotion at the thought of Zonzon getting anywhere near his Bulma.

“Watch it, old man!”

The lizard kept running his mouth, apparently undisturbed by the Saiyan’s warnings.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out, eh? Let’s go check on that hot piece of ass of yours…”

Zonzon stood from his chair precariously, but before he could get too far, he found his large, flabby body violently crushed against the already cracked wall, his big feet no longer touching the ground as Vegeta’s hand grabbed him aggressively by the neck.

“You will never, EVER, get anywhere near my woman!” He growled ferociously, his entire muscular body trembling in pure rage. “You’re not even worthy of breathing the same air she breathes!”

“F-Fuck…” Zonzon stuttered, desperately gasping for air. His eyes told Vegeta he was panicking, and his whole shtick about wanting to die had been just a bluff after all. Now that the monster was finally face to face with death, feeling his life slowly slip through his dirty fingers, he pathetically attempted to save his ass any way he could.

“C-Come on, Vegeta… I-I was just j-joking… I b-bet she’s a nice girl… How about I offer you two some…?”

“SHUT UP! Shut the fuck up! Do NOT speak of MY WOMAN!”

“Ve-Vegeta… P-Please… I…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Vegeta let go of Zonzon, snatching his heavy head as his body was about to hit the floor and cracking his neck in one quick motion, dropping the now lifeless body on the ground.

_‘That was it…’_

Vegeta took one final look at the dead body. The lizard’s face now looked like a horrible, grotesque mask, his glassy eyes wide open in shock and fear and his purplish tongue ridiculously sticking out of the toothless mouth.

He left the office, closing the door behind him and resolutely walking towards the V.I.P. room where Bulma awaited him. The closer her presence felt, the more his fury seemed to evaporate.

So, he’d killed the bastard.

_So, what?_

_Wasn’t that the plan all along?_

So, what if it’d been his desire to protect Bulma what had actually given him the final push to putting an end to the lizard’s life and not his original wish for revenge?

_Wasn’t the end result the same anyway?_

Zonzon was dead.

Good riddance.

It shouldn’t make a difference to him, and yet, it made all the difference in the world.

_He’d killed an old ghost from the past for her…_

_What had this woman done to him?_

Relief washed over him when he finally joined his mate, who was now kneeling on the couch, holding a glass in her hand, her little elbows leaning on the headrest as she looked at all the semi-nude females dancing outside, in the night club, with avid eyes.

Teekoh was still sitting by the door, and he got up immediately as soon as he noticed the warrior’s presence.

“My Prince…” He bowed.

“Hey, Vegeta!” Bulma said, offering him a dazzling, tipsy smile. “You’re back!”

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at her much too chirpy behavior.

“I’m sorry, My Prince, but… Your concubine insisted that she wanted a drink and I… I had to…”

“Do not apologize, Teekoh. She really is a stubborn little wench, isn’t she?” The Prince replied with a smirk on his face, tranquilizing his old friend and secretly amused by Bulma’s antics. The blasted woman couldn’t follow the goddamned rules for even five minutes, and he’d be lying if he said a big part of him didn’t love her for it.

“Y-Yes, My Prince… She’s a stubborn girl, indeed. I prepared her drink myself, from the bottles we keep here in our private bar, so there’s no danger, I assure you…”

Vegeta placed a reassuring hand on the taller man’s shoulder, just as he’d done when he first greeted him earlier. “That is quite all right, Teekoh, we’ll be leaving soon anyway.”

The thin man nodded in relief. “Was…? Was your visit satisfactory?” He asked prudently.

“It was,” Vegeta simply replied, not wanting to get into too many details and feeling that words were not even required at this point. “You may leave now, Teekoh. Your help is no longer needed.”

“Very well, My Prince.”

Vegeta walked Teekoh to the door, and the man unlocked it, offering the Saiyan the golden key.

“You may lock it after I’m gone if you wish, nobody will bother you if you want to spend some alone time with your woman in here.”

The Prince took the key, and he put his hand inside his armor as if he were looking for something. When he finally took it out, he was holding a small, golden card, which he instantly offered to his friend.

“This is for you, in payment for your help,” he said solemnly, making the older man’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Oh, no! No, I can’t! It’s not…”

“Take it,” Vegeta insisted, sternly placing it on Teekoh’s hand against the man’s will.

“My Prince, it’s not necessary… I was happy to help you tonight. I fully understand your… Your reasons…”

“This is not just for your services tonight, old man. This is also for…” Vegeta paused, hesitating, feeling uncomfortable about recalling certain events from the past. “For all your services in the past…”

Both men exchanged a knowing glance, and Teekoh finally relented, taking the card with shaky hands and nodding in thankfulness.

“I only did what was right, My Prince.”

“And that is exactly what I am doing right now, Teekoh.”

The taller man exited the room, saying his final goodbyes to the Saiyan and his woman.

“Good luck, Prince Vegeta.”

“Good luck,” the Prince assented, finally closing the door and locking it behind him.

When he turned his attentions back to Bulma, he discovered the nosy little woman had been paying close attention to the previous exchange with his old comrade. He removed his white gloves, throwing them into a nearby trash can and turning them to ashes with a tiny ki spark. He didn’t want to touch his mate with the same gloves he’d been wearing when he killed such a filthy creature.

He approached her, at once taking away the glass she was holding in her dainty hand. He carefully sniffed the pink liquid it contained, taking a small sip to taste it. It was sickly sweet, and definitely stronger than anything he’d drank on Earth, so it was a good thing the woman had barely had a taste of it, otherwise she’d be blind drunk by now.

Vegeta sat by Bulma’s side, knowing they should abandon the night club as soon as they could, just in case, but wanting to cool down for a few minutes before they left.

His woman took advantage of his proximity and shamelessly threw her arms around him, holding his neck and kneeling on the couch beside him. She kept smiling at him, one of those pure, honest-to-Gods smiles of hers, and he could tell that, even though she wasn’t inebriated, the alcohol had loosened her up a bit.

“So… How did it go? Did everything work out?”

The Saiyan grunted affirmatively. He didn’t want to talk; all he wanted to do was to share a moment with his mate. After all the immorality and decadence he’d just witnessed tonight, she was all he needed.

Bulma swiftly made her move, boldly straddling him, siting on his lap and trapping his strong, muscular thighs between her legs. Vegeta’s hands automatically travelled to her hips, holding her firmly, as if she were the only thing still capable of keeping him grounded to this world.

“Mmm…” Bulma moaned, playfully nuzzling his nose. “I guess that means you’re all mine from now on…” She said, teasingly rubbing her core against a very dangerous area underneath the tight pants of his battle suit.

Vegeta hissed loudly, clutching her hips even tighter, knowing that if the devilish creature kept moving like that, she’d elicit a very embarrassing physical reaction from him very, _very_ soon…

“You’re drunk, woman…” He whispered in her ear, making her giggle in response.

“I’m not!” Bulma pouted childishly. “I’m just a little tipsy, that’s all…”

She kept dangerously rubbing herself against him, and Vegeta felt more and more powerless by the second. He buried his nose in her neck, feeling her comforting presence wash all over him. She smelled of life, honesty and all things bright, and he realized he needed her now, more than ever, to forget about the humiliating fiasco this trip had turned out to be.

“Mmm… Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you look in your new armor?” She asked, nibbling on his strong jaw and making him unconsciously tilt his head back, letting her do as she pleased with him.

Vegeta groaned, already feeling his body react to his little woman. “Is that so?” He whispered teasingly in a warm, husky voice.

Bulma run her tongue across his jaw, almost soothing the places she’d just sunk her small teeth into. “You do… And you know what I just realized?”

His rugged hands squeezed her hips once again, silently encouraging her to keep talking, to say something, anything. All he wanted was to keep hearing the calming sound of her melodic, coquettish voice…

“You haven’t even looked at any of the other girls in this club tonight…”    

Vegeta looked at her, puzzled as to why it was so surprising to Bulma that he hadn’t paid any attention to all those other wenches. Didn’t she already know she was his woman? Why would he ever feel the need of looking at someone else?

When he said nothing, Bulma kept talking, taking advantage of the courage the liquor had given her.

“Mmm… I think that deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

The Saiyan pressed her gorgeous body even closer to him, his hands never letting go of those luscious hips. He could feel his sanity slipping away, knowing where this was inevitably going, and for the first time in months, he truly didn’t give a shit anymore.

He got the impression the liquor was finally making his woman lose control and open up to him, sharing her deepest desires, and Vegeta was feeling more eager than ever to indulge her, so he willingly kept provoking her…

“What do you have in mind, little human?”

Bulma smirked seductively, glad to see Vegeta so keen to play her little game of seduction. She placed a tiny kiss on the tip of his nose and she proceeded to remove her mate’s possessive hands from her body. He reluctantly agreed, knowing his woman wasn’t really going anywhere and curious as to what her naughty, mischievous mind had in store for him.

“Perhaps your gorgeous concubine should do a little dance for you…”

She stood in front of him, all long legs and sparkly high heels and, for the first time, Vegeta paid attention to the music playing in the background, which he’d ignored entirely before. It reminded him of Earth’s so-called _‘Oriental music’_ and the melody seemed to have been specifically designed for the breathtaking woman sensuously dancing just for him.

His mouth went dry at the sight of her voluptuous hips indolently shaking for his eyes only. The minute black dress, whose neckline was so low he could almost see her bellybutton, was so short that, as she moved, it offered him a glimpse of her perfect, rounded ass cheeks. Her arms kept moving with the rest of her body in perfect unison as she bent over, languidly running her hands across her skin, from her knees to her creamy thighs, hips and breasts, which kept bouncing slightly from side to side as she kept dancing, swaying to the rhythm of the exotic sounds…

_She was hypnotizing._

_She was so maddeningly fucking perfect it hurt, and she was all his…_

Vegeta knew all he had to do was say the word and she’d fervently comply, ardently giving herself to him, letting him do whatever the Hell he wanted with her body. And when she finally offered him her hand, _he took it_ ; the Gods helped him, _he did_ , because nothing else mattered anymore. There was no past and no future. No death or revenge, only desire, a burning desire that consumed him like an incontrollable flame.

_Only his Bulma could do that to him…_

He stood by her side, and just as he was about to grab her and press her tight, petite body against him, she turned around, smooth and swift like a bewitching little snake.

_And then…_

_Sweet merciful Gods!_

Then she pressed her bottom against him, milking his cock, already hard as a rock, between her pert little ass cheeks. And even though his instinct of self-preservation begged him to keep her away from him, the primal, animalistic voices within his soul just ordered him to take all the enchanting woman had to offer and then some.

_And he would, because he was a bastard from Hell, and that’s what he did…_

He was born to take, pillage, kill and conquer, and he’d take this woman tonight even if giving in to her wishes killed them both.

_Because, after all, nothing else really mattered…_

They were just a man and a woman whose bodies kept imploring for release. There was no logical, scientific explanation for the unshakable attraction they’d both felt for each other since day one, and Vegeta had finally grown tired of fighting his urges anymore…

“I want you, Vegeta… Gods! I want you so much…” Bulma sobbed, laying her head back and rubbing her cheek against his as she kept pressing herself against his massive erection. Even though he hadn’t fucked her in months she still remembered _oh, too well_ how good the excited man behind her could make her feel.

The scent of her arousal invaded Vegeta’s senses as he encircled her body, one arm around her hips and one hand softly caressing her breasts, feeling her rosy, hardened nipples through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Bulma…” He muttered, his mind so dazed by desire by now that he was incapable of putting a coherent sentence together.

“Am I prettier than those women, Vegeta?” She asked in a breathless, girlie voice. “Don’t you want me anymore?”          

He clutched a fistful of her tousled hair and pressed his lips against hers, indulging in a messy kiss, tasting the need and desire pouring from her.

“You’re more fucking beautiful than all of them together,” he honestly replied, his dark eyes penetrating her soul and his velvety voice feeling like an avid caress…  

She turned around, wrapping her thin arms around his neck and kissing him again, forcing him to swallow her desperate moans, feeling as if she were finally losing her mind.

“Then, what’s stopping you, Vegeta? J-Just… Just do it, please! I want you…” Her hand boldly run across his body, stopping when it reached his pants and pressing it against the large proof of his arousal.

“F-Fuck!” Vegeta roared, feeling his cock twitch and throb in anticipation. 

_‘That was it…’_

_He couldn’t resist her anymore…_

The Prince growled in need, passionately holding her face with one hand and squeezing it slightly, making her glossy lips pout in wonder. He run his textured tongue across them once, twice… His other hand then covered the one that was still daringly wrapped around his hard cock.

“Do you want _this_ , Bulma? Do you want _me_?” He asked hoarsely against her panting mouth, trembling in sheer agony. She brazenly squeezed his member gently in response.

“G-Gods! Yes, Vegeta! Yes… I want you! I want _all of you_ …”

No more words were needed for Vegeta to make his final choice. He bit her lower lip, making her gasp in shock and pleasurable pain, and sealed her mouth with another hot, searing kiss before she had time to chastise him. When he finally unlocked their lips, gasping for air, he held her flawless, radiant face between his hands, sealing their fate once and for all.

“Then you _will_ have me, woman.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...
> 
> Do I REALLY need to tell you what's finally going to happen in the next chapter?


	23. A Night To Remember

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta finally give in to each other's desires...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, I'm back!
> 
> I know this is the longest I've been without updating, but I've struggled a lot with this chapter, maybe a combination of writer's block and feeling a bit rusty because I hadn't written a lemon since the Vegebul Smutfest and I felt a bit insecure about it now.
> 
> I hope I got it right and you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Hopefully, I'll be able to update more often from now on.

Vegeta touched down on the cold grass, still holding Bulma zealously in his strong arms. They’d been flying in the dark for what seemed like an eternity until his sharp Saiyan senses had found the perfect spot for them to install their small Capsule Corp. house.

The flight had been absolutely unbearable, and his mate had driven him so mad with desire that, once he’d finally decided to allow himself to lose control and make love to her, he’d been dangerously close to just ripping off her dress and take her on one of the soft burgundy couches of the strip-club. Luckily, his cool, disciplined mind still preserved a tiny spark of rationality, reminding him that a woman like Bulma deserved more than a cheap fuck on some filthy, underground joint, so he’d simply grabbed her by the hand, literally rushing outside the building and taking off into the dark sky.

During their journey, she’d kept her arms and legs firmly wrapped around him, holding onto him for dear life as she buried her face in the crook of his neck. She’d shamelessly placed hot kisses all over his warm skin, rubbing herself against him, mercilessly testing his self-control as he precariously attempted to find just the right place for them to temporarily settle down.

“Here,” he finally whispered, one arm refusing to let go of her waist as the other reached for the small capsule Bulma had entrusted him with before they’d abandoned their ship. Vegeta clicked on its small button, throwing it away at a safe distance and instantaneously revealing a humble dwelling.

Knowing his woman couldn’t see at all in the black of night, the Saiyan carried her in his arms until he reached the wooden door, opening it with one arm and finally letting her go when they got inside, where Vegeta immediately turned on the lights in the small living room. A tiny hand quickly placed itself on top of his, slowly reducing the intensity of the lighting.

“Do you mind?” She asked demurely in a low voice, offering him a timid smile.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at that, shocked by the sudden coyness his mate was displaying. It was strange for Bulma to feel uncomfortable about the thought of making love to him with the lights on, in fact, if he recalled correctly, she’d literally jumped him and had her way with him in broad daylight in the past. Perhaps his woman was still feeling insecure, especially now that the faint effects of the liquor she’d drank in the nightclub had dissipated during their nocturnal flight. For some reason, the sight of his beautiful mate still feeling unconfident didn’t sit right with him, and he promised himself that he’d, once and for all, show her just how desirable she truly was to him.

The Saiyan turned around in one swift motion, grabbing the hand Bulma had placed over his and kissing its long fingers delicately, his penetrating onyx eyes never leaving hers. He could sense her body trembling, both in nervousness and anticipation, her eyes an irresistible mixture of hunger and apprehension. He smirked wickedly, his mouth still firmly pressed against the smooth skin of her hand, and the roguish gesture unconsciously made her bite her glossy lips in expectation.

Her index finger traveled leisurely across his bottom lip, and soon the other ones followed, her hand languorously caressing his hot cheek and hiding in his wild hair, clutching it greedily.

“Vegeta…” She mumbled hungrily against his mouth, her cute little nose shyly nuzzling his as she kissed him languidly, making him exhale in relief. For an instant, he’d feared his mate’s soberness would have made her change her mind but, thankfully, she still wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

They kissed for a few minutes, quietly enjoying the taste of each other’s mouth, relishing this brief moment of calmness they both knew would inevitably soon give place to the insatiable passion that had always surrounded them, ever since they’d given in to each other for the very first time.

Vegeta broke the kiss gasping for air, pressing his forehead against Bulma’s, his warm breath sweetly intermingling with hers. He closed his eyes, feeling his head spinning, his body’s old cravings newly re-awakened by the presence of the gorgeous woman standing right in front of him. His shaky hands grazed her flushed cheeks almost reverently, and he quickly realized he hadn’t felt this vulnerable in a very long time. There was something about his mate that made him feel completely raw and exposed, perhaps because she was the only living creature he’d ever truly given a damn about other than himself. He knew he’d hurt her more times than he could count, and yet here she was, following him through the dark confines of Space, and finding him, gradually bringing him back from the death he’d been living in ever since he’d abandoned her magnificent planet.

He finally dared to open his eyes, only to find those big, sparkly blue ones staring right into his soul, patiently waiting for him to make the next move.

_That’s what she did, wasn’t it?_

_That’s what she’d always done…_

Wait.

Wait for him to open up to her, for him to be brave enough to acknowledge what had inevitably grown between them and, eventually, for him to finally do something about it.

She’d changed something in him, deeply and fundamentally, and he didn’t quite know what to do about it anymore, what to do with this new man she’d created. Or, perhaps, this new man had always lived inside of him, and she’d merely had enough power to release him to the world, and he’d been so terrified, he’d simply chosen to run away from her and their son.

But there was no escape now.

_Not anymore..._

He was here and so was she and Vegeta knew all he had to do was the thing he hated the most: letting go, surrendering to her and allowing their famished, lust-inflamed bodies to take charge and do the rest.

“What have you done to me, woman?” His lips murmured breathlessly, and the almost crazy look in his eye made Bulma tremble in a delicious blend of fear and desire.

She had no words for him, no reply to his enigmatic question, but guessing the real meaning behind it, she kissed him innocently again, her curvaceous body melting against him, feeling his excruciating arousal thick and ready, just for her. He groaned in frustration, grasping a handful of her messy hair and forcing her head back into submission, running his lips across her powerlessly exposed neck and feeling her increasingly fast heartbeat beneath them as he hungrily kissed and licked her ivory skin, making Bulma moan desperately in need and approval.

Her head felt dizzy as she succumbed to Vegeta’s ravenous ministrations, both gentle and passionate, just as he’d always been. A sorrowful image rapidly flashed her mind, the image of the defeated man who’d come to say goodbye to her that last night back on Earth, when they’d just lay naked next to each other, and she marveled at how different the man now fervently nibbling and kissing her neck was. When he suddenly bit her fragile skin, making her gasp in unexpected pleasure and pain, she knew she’d finally unleashed the beast, a hungry, predatory animal that wanted nothing more than to satisfy her every need. For all his faults, her mate had never been a selfish lover, and evidence of that was the heated tongue that was now soothingly licking the spot he’d just bitten carefully enough not to break her delicate skin.

That was what she loved about him the most, how much self-control and, dare she say it, tenderness, he could display in spite of his colossal physical strength. In all the time she’d known him, he’d never ever hurt her, and she implicitly knew he never would.

His mouth travelled upwards, now working its magic on her earlobe, gnawing on it and running his tongue across it before his husky voice talked again, his powerful statement reverberating all over her.

“I have you in my blood, Bulma…”

His words made her heart skip a beat, and her hands grabbed him, hopelessly clutching the tight sleeves of his fighting suit like a drowning woman lost at sea holding onto the only thing that could possibly save her, the only man who could put out the fire that consumed her; she shivered, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling her eyes suddenly burn with unshed tears.

_He wanted her._

_He still truly wanted her…_

Vegeta must have smelled her tears, since he reluctantly ceased his ministrations and looked at her again, holding her face domineeringly once more.

“Bulma, look at me,” he softly commanded, his gentle but firm tone forcing Bulma to open her eyes at once. His thumbs affectionately caressed her cheeks, and his body language told her he was attempting to control his urges and slow down his pace just for her sake. “There will be no tears tonight,” there was a brief pause as he kissed her lips tenderly. “Only pleasure…” He promised.

Her turquoise eyes kept staring at him, unable to hide the shock at her mate’s statement. Vegeta seldom talked before their intimate encounters together, very rarely daring to verbalize his feelings and making promises to her with even less frequency. Bulma gulped unconsciously, nervously assenting in silent acceptance of the promise of a night dedicated to pleasure and pleasure alone.

Before she could say anything else, the Saiyan wrapped his arms around her, pressing her body against him as he proceeded to walk towards the living room’s small white couch. He never stopped, not even when the back of her legs finally touched the plush cushion and was practically forced to lay on it as Vegeta carefully accommodated her petite form on its soft surface.

Bulma felt his hard body trap hers beneath him, his compact but heavy muscles creating a warm prison she’d never feel the need to escape from. She kissed him hotly once again, her sharp fingernails poking the back of his robust neck, driving Vegeta absolutely mad with desire. He grunted, supporting his weight on trembling arms, knowing full well that if he rubbed his core against hers he’d spill himself before he had the chance to bring her to climax at least once.

His thick fingers explored her shapely thighs, leaving a path of fire on their way up and making her skin prickle almost instantly. He gladly swallowed the moan that escaped Bulma’s mouth, and her neediness became apparent when he felt her hips attempting to rise and meet his in vain, making him smirk triumphantly against her lips. When her lips parted from his, panting excitedly and trying to catch some air, her small hands frantically tugged on his cold armor, imploring pathetically. “P-Please…” 

“What is it, woman?” He asked in a murmur, knowing exactly just what she was asking for.

“Please, Vegeta…” Bulma begged urgently. “Take it off… I… I want to feel you…”

His hands possessively squeezed the flesh of her pale thigh in response to her pleas.

“You’re already feeling me, woman…” Vegeta whispered impishly against her swollen red lips. “I’m right here…”  He declared, his rough fingers now discovering the outside of her black thong, proudly noticing it was, indeed, the indecent piece of lingerie he’d chosen for her to wear back in their ship.

_Gods!_

_She was soaking wet already…_

Vegeta kept caressing her through the dark, silky fabric, making Bulma whimper pitifully. She was no longer trying to take off his armor and was now pulling at the elastic material of the neck of his shirt, bringing him as close to her as she humanly could and panting loudly and urgently against his mouth. She couldn’t wait any longer, she _wanted_ him, _needed_ him to bring her the release she so desperately desired.

“Ve-Vegeta… Please…”

“Please, what, _Bulma_?” He mumbled again, his hand still teasing her center, running his index finger dangerously across her moist underwear.

She sobbed loudly, wildly nuzzling his tanned cheek and biting his thick lower lip, awakening Vegeta’s most primitive side. He kept looking at her, enjoying how easy it was for him to bring his stunning mate seriously close to the edge.

“I… I need you… Please…”

Unable to wait any longer either, Vegeta ripped off the tiny thong, exposing her smooth, saturated sex to him. He couldn’t help but lick his lips hungrily at the sight of it, rosy and already thinly coated with the glistening proof of her desire. His calloused finger grazed her entrance with a barely there, feathery touch. “Is this what you need?” He asked in a masculine, hoarse voice.

“Gods, yes! Yes! _Please_ …”

Her voice was sweet and needy and she kept arching her body, fervently inviting him to invade her striking body with his expert touch.

“How badly do you need me, woman?” He enquired again, tenderly exploring her soft wet folds, but being very careful not to penetrate her yet. There were some words he still needed to hear from her clever little mouth before he finally gave in to her wishes…

“P-Please, Vegeta… D-Don’t do this to me, please…”

He immediately removed his hand away from her center, quickly grabbing the pert flesh of her bottom and pressing her sweet pussy against his cock. Bulma automatically wrapped one of her long legs around the back of his muscular thighs, rubbing herself against him. He was still painfully hard, and his now agonizingly tight pants were already shamefully damp with precum. With great difficulty, he repeated his question. “How badly do you need me, _Bulma_?”

She couldn’t even reply, tilting her head back, already getting lost in her own pleasure as she kept rubbing her sensitive clit against his stiffness. Vegeta roared, demanding her full attention by squeezing the flesh of her round ass even harder. 

“Tell me, _woman_!”

The harsh, frantic tone in his voice quickly brought her back to reality, and her eyes widened in shock at the desperate, animalistic look in his deep, obscure eyes.

“I… I need you, Vegeta… I need you more than… More than _anything_ …”

“More than anyone?” He asked almost menacingly.

“W-What…?”

“More than _anyone_?”

“Vegeta, what…?”

He sank the elbow of the arm that had been previously supporting his weight on the couch, sliding his hand behind her head and cradling her against him, mysteriously whispering in her ear.

“Have you had another man during my absence, woman?”

A fleeting rush of panic coursed her body at the thought of Vegeta thinking she’d been capable of being with another man while he’d been gone. The very idea was absolutely preposterous: the sexy bastard had forever ruined her for other men anyway, and one look at him told her he knew it just as well as she did. He wasn’t actually jealous; he simply needed her to reassure him, to openly declare that he was the only man she’d ever share her body and soul with.

“N-No! Never!” Bulma muttered passionately, pressing her lips against his. “There’s only you…” She kissed him eagerly yet again. “Only you…”

Vegeta knew she was telling the truth and yet, his woman’s verbalization that she’d never allow anyone else to touch her felt _good_ , disconcertingly good for a man who’d always taken pride in needing nothing and no one. During his cold, solitary nights without her, he’d often found his mind invaded by dark thoughts and images of Bulma eventually finding a substitute for him, a new lover, _a new mate_ …

Vegeta grunted angrily, forcing those gloomy, impossible thoughts away, and he brought her pretty face even closer to his.

“I’m going to need some evidence, _Bulma_ …” He demanded, appreciating her body’s reaction to the sound of her name on his perfect lips while his thick fingers waited patiently, exasperatingly still, at her wet entrance. “I need you to show me… _Show me_ no one else has touched you while I was gone, woman…”

Bulma’s bright eyes looked at him curiously.

_Show him?_

_How?_

Her entire body felt hot, trembling in need just for him, and his obsessive words did nothing but increase the fire she felt burning between her legs, so she did the only thing she could think of, taking matters literally into her own hands.

One of her hands shakily travelled through her inflamed body and shyly placed itself over his. Bulma took one final questioning glance at Vegeta and the ghost of a treacherous smile on his lips told her exactly what he wanted her to do. Her middle finger pushed his inside of her agonizingly slowly, and she sighed in relief when she felt him immediately take control, moving gently within her body.

“Oh…” She moaned, arching her back and pressing her voluptuous breasts against his solid, impenetrable armor.

“Is this what you need?” He asked playfully, silently marveling at the sight of Bulma’s features already contorting deliciously in pleasure. His finger skillfully touched just the right spot, the one he knew could drive her mad, and she instantly hissed in delight, rocking her hips against his expert touch.

Vegeta kept masterfully working her body, enjoying her warm tightness; she felt just like she did the first time he’d made love to her, and here, with his fragile woman in his arms, it was as if time had never passed, as if they’d never been apart. When she didn’t reply to him he asked her again, pumping slightly harder into her.

“Tell me, Bulma…” He whispered powerfully. “Tell me what you _need_ …”

She clung to him even more desperately, her feminine nails digging into his strong biceps. “Oh, Gods! Y-You…! I… I need you!”

“Just me?”

“J-Just… Oh! Just you!”

He bit her earlobe lightly, prompting a surprised gasp from his shivering mate. “I’m the only one, Bulma… You’re _mine_!”

She nodded frantically as he held his triumphant, unwavering gaze, pressing his brow against hers while he kept penetrating her, gradually increasing his pace.

“Do you want more, little woman?”

Bulma assented again, her blue eyes completely clouded by desire…

He smirked victoriously. “Then you know what you have to do…”

She bit her lip, and one of her trembling hands forced another one of his rugged fingers inside of her. He didn’t waste any time now, giving her just what she wanted, fucking her mercilessly with those thick, hard-skinned fingers as she filled the barely lit house with her moans and the indecent sounds of his hands ruthlessly working her soaked little pussy. Her climax was now so close she could almost taste it, and her tongue danced with his in an ardent, intense kiss as she felt her inner walls begin to tighten.

“Yes… Oh, Gods… Y-Yes! I… I’m…”

“Are you going to cum?” He asked knowingly, his painfully hard cock rebelliously twitching at the incredible spectacle taking place under him.

“ _Oh, yes_ … I… I’m going to…”

“Finish it, Bulma… _Cum for me_ …” Vegeta commanded possessively.

Her fingers swiftly reached her sensitive bundle of nerves, caressing it shakily in her desperate chase for release as his firm, husky words of encouragement reverberated in her ears.

“Do it for me, _woman_ …”

Vegeta’s fingers curled, expertly touching just the right spot once more, and then it happened…

Bulma’s body exploded in ecstasy, screaming desperately as her entire form shook in pleasure. A pleasure she hadn’t experienced for far too long. A pleasure only her mate could provide her with. Her tiny hands kept holding on to him while Vegeta’s fingers remained inside of her, skillfully slowing down their pace as he cherished the satisfaction of feeling his woman climax right on his hand. It truly was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and he cursed himself for his own stupidity, for having neglected her for such a long amount of time.

Her body gradually grew limp as the sporadic aftershocks from her orgasm slowly faded away, and her fingers left his arms, delicately caressing his cheeks, one hand lovingly wiping off his sweaty brow. Vegeta was still trembling in need, and the fact that he’d withheld his own hunger just to satisfy her desires first made her love him even more.

“Thank you…” She whispered gratefully, languidly placing a tender, amorous kiss on his starving lips.

He nodded silently, the look of pure adoration in her eyes stirring something deep inside of him, something he couldn’t fully identify, a feeling that made him feel both proud and yet unworthy of it. He was still cradling her head against his face, enjoying her warmth and placing soft, light kisses all over her blushed skin.

For a moment, he didn’t know what to do, inwardly wondering if the woman would need some time to recover before they carried on and moved to the bedroom. He still hadn’t had his fill of her, but he was willing to wait as long as she wanted. He’d promised himself, after all, that he’d put her needs first throughout the entire week they’d be spending together.

As usual, his brave little woman made the next move, reaching for the hand that had just given her so much gratification and bringing it to her mouth, indolently licking her own juices from his practiced fingers as she looked at him through the heavy-lidded eyes of a well-satisfied woman while Vegeta kept staring at her, almost entranced and gritting his teeth, barely managing to keep his urges at bay. When she finished her lewd task, she naughtily bit the tip of his middle finger, scrunching her nose cutely and smiling at him.

“Take me to bed,” she simply asked, encircling his neck with her slim arms, those sparkly oceanic eyes never losing that pure look of affection towards him.

Vegeta didn’t need to be told twice, and he just held her in his arms, wandering through the small living room in search of the bedroom. It suddenly occurred to him that he’d barely payed any attention to the house Bulma had brought for this trip: it was small and humble, yet comfortable and with a cozy air to it, certainly much warmer and hospitable than any of the luxurious palaces he’d visited so far. He walked in the dark, carrying his mate in a strong embrace until he reached their destination: a bedroom simply furnished with a double bed, a nightstand and a large chair placed in one of the corners.

Vegeta gently sat Bulma at the foot of the bed and, seeing she was still dressed, he knelt on the carpet in front of her, leisurely caressing her pale thighs in a comforting motion as he enjoyed the sight of her, all peaches and cream skin and tousled blue waves.

“Undress for me, woman,” he requested in an undertone, his eyes never deserting hers. She kept observing him with wide, curious eyes, and he could perceive that, even though she felt a lot calmer, there was still a hint of diffidence in her movements.

Without questioning his orders, her small hands reached behind her slender neck, slowly loosening the tight knot that had been keeping her skimpy black dress in place and letting go of it, allowing the scarce, silky fabric to fall and slide across her body, thus freeing her firm, ripe breasts. Vegeta soon took control, carefully lifting her hips and finally removing the seductive garment, leaving her clad only in her sparkly pair of high heels, which he also proceeded to take off, his famished hands and mouth never abandoning the satiny skin of her legs for too long as he kept touching, kissing and feeling them repeatedly.

Once he had her fully undressed he raised his eyes again, only to find her with her arms wrapped around her body in a futile attempt to modestly cover herself from his avid gaze. His fingers firmly lifted her slightly shuddering jaw, forcing her to look him in the eye, his breath intermingling with hers as he muttered a possessive statement against her lips.

“I thought we’d agreed that you were mine, woman…”

Bulma remained silent for a moment, her confused mind and body feeling dazed, struggling with unclear emotions of both eager anticipation and insecurity, fully aware of the fact that they were finally about to cross the final invisible line that had kept them apart for so long now, and wondering what that would eventually lead them to. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time they’d become lovers, and yet, she’d never felt those black, ravenous eyes look at her the way they were looking at her now. The man kneeling in front of her exposed body was neither the broken, defeated man she’d last seen on Earth the night prior to his departure, nor the over-confident, cocky bastard that had first made her fall head over heels for him when they’d first met. There was a new vulnerability in his eyes, a rare, uncovered honesty he’d never shared with her before.    

She finally gave him a reply, an anxious, ragged breath escaping her apprehensive, parted lips.

“I am…” 

A proud, satisfied smirk drew itself on Vegeta’s lips.

“Then why are you trying to hide from me?” He susurrated in a low authoritative voice, placing an innocent kiss on her mouth. “Uncover your body for me, Bulma…”

Bulma’s hands courageously bared her naked form for her lover to see, and the Prince’s hands immediately payed attention to it, gently fondling her perky round breasts, basking in their feminine softness. His calloused fingertips grazed her nipples, already hardening under his touch as his mate’s breathing deepened, her wet tongue slipping inside his mouth intensifying his need for her tenfold.

“Good girl…” Vegeta muttered in approval, that devastating smirk never leaving his handsome face.

He gladly responded to her kiss for a few minutes, until he was unable to ignore the silent screams of his body, begging him to make her his once and for all, and he finally forced himself to let go of her delicate face, slowly standing in front of her. For a man that wasn’t excessively tall, he always carried himself with such an unusual, admirably imposing manner, that he made her feel even smaller, like a snowy little mouse about to be devoured by a dark large cat. He removed his armor in one quick, smooth motion, taking off the shirt of his tight fighting suit just as fast.

Bulma slowly crawled backwards, never taking her eyes off him, until she positioned herself on the center of the large bed. She precariously supported her weight on her elbows, admiring the way Vegeta was getting rid of his attire, getting ready for her. She’d always loved him in human clothes, but there was something about this strong, powerful warrior removing his armor before making love to her that made her feel giddy with excitement every single time without fail. When Vegeta took off his boots and spandex pants, finally freeing his now fully erect member, her tongue travelled her lips in appreciation and a new wave of arousal invaded her treacherous body, the exotic scent making the warrior’s smirk widen knowingly.

_Damn him and his superhuman Saiyan senses…_

Not only could that perfectly chiseled body put the beauty of a Greek God to shame, but his many talents made him far superior in many ways to any human lover she could have possibly had.

_He was magnificent, and after having been taken by him, no other man would ever be able to take his place…_

He sank his sturdy knees on the bed, and he gradually crawled towards her, bit by bit, taking the time to devour her nude perfection with his starving eyes.

_She was immaculate._

As perfect as a flawless, porcelain doll, with the moonlight playing catch-and-seek games with her soft curves and that ivory skin splayed resplendently over the white, silken fabric of her bedsheets. His nostrils inhaled the lingering, saturated perfume of the climax he’d already brought her that night, perfectly combined with the new wave of sexual excitement emanating from her every pore, awakening the animalistic yearning of the Saiyan beast that had laid dormant for countless months.

_What an intoxicating, bewitching little creature this woman could be…_

When he reached his destination, Vegeta pressed his lips hungrily against hers, accepting the weak cries that escaped Bulma’s throat when the thick tip of his hard, swollen cock made contact with her still over-sensitized bud, making her instinctively wrap her legs around his and her hands reach down to his perfectly shaped buttocks, sinking her nails into the hard flesh and scratching it unashamedly.

His hips began rocking against hers, his oozing length rubbing between the dampened apex of her thighs, her silky nether lips already demanding more from him, increasing the speed and intensity of her movements in a new, needy quest for pleasure. She pronounced his name in a desperate moan, begging him to put an end to her suffering, her supplicant eyes imploring for his body to give her what she needed the most.

Vegeta hugged her against his hard chest, his ruthless fingers tangled in her wild, sinuous hair while his other hand caressed her cheek affectionately. By now, he was truly starting to lose his self-control at the touch of her soft, girlie hands pushing his buttocks, bringing him closer to her as she pressed his solid physique against hers. Her pretty, pink nipples rubbed against his, and her body felt just as perfect as it’d always been; if carrying his child had changed anything about her, those changes had been nothing but positive.

“You look glorious, woman…” He declared with a tinge of unhidden adoration behind those bottomless dark eyes, making Bulma’s breath momentarily hitch in shock. It was so rare for him to compliment her this way, especially without bothering to hide his now unmistakable fondness for her...

“Vegeta…” She whimpered, so deeply moved she feared she’d burst into tears at any minute.

Before any more words could leave her mouth, Vegeta entered her moist warmth without warning, burying himself deep inside of her in a gentle but intense move, making the tiny woman beneath him sob in relief at finally becoming one with him. After all the time they’d been apart, there was still a part of her that couldn’t believe they were finally able to lie like this, in each other’s arms.

He carefully halted his movements, patiently giving her trembling body time to adjust to his immense size.

_Gods!_

_She was so tight he felt as if he was being squeezed by a slick, satin glove…_

Bulma’s legs trapped his hips, and she pulled him in a close embrace as her body started to move underneath him, silently communicating that she was alright and encouraging him to continue.

Vegeta’s body instinctually understood her silent request and he leisurely began moving inside of her, his rigid cock gliding in and out of her as he rocked his robust body against her pliant, welcoming one. She kept pulling him against her possessively, as if she were afraid he’d disappear, her exhausted, pleasure-filled mind secretly wondering if this was a dream, a dream she’d suddenly awaken from, only to discover he’d vanished, yet again, from her life.

Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, trying to focus instead on the incredible sensations her mate was providing her with, his hardness exploring and mercilessly invading her insides, making her flesh shiver in delight. Her mouth lavished the bronzed skin of his face with tender but desperate kisses all over as she clung to him for dear life. But, unable to handle the unusual, affectionate way in which Vegeta was making love to her, she soon found herself overwhelmed by sad, disheartening emotions that kept distracting her, stopping her from simply basking in his touch and, before she knew it, she had to let go of him, covering her face with pale, shaky hands and suddenly bursting into tears.

Vegeta ceased his actions immediately, absolutely horrified at the sight of his gorgeous woman crying while she was in bed with him. In all the countless times they’d been intimate together, she’d never reacted this way to his touch.

_‘Did she not want this anymore?’_

“Bulma?” He asked in an anxious whisper, finally mustering the courage to talk. He was still physically connected to her, but afraid to move or touch her in any other way for fear of her reaction.

“I… I’m s-sorry…” Bulma replied pitifully in embarrassment, quickly feeling like an utter fool for behaving this way in front of him, especially at a moment like this.

The Saiyan took a deep breath in an attempt to cool down. He could still feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins, but it’d become apparent by now that his mate was no longer in the mood.

“Woman…” He muttered again. One of his hands covered hers, trying to coax her gently to uncover her tearful face for him. “Bulma, look at me… Did I…?” He paused briefly, paralyzed by fear at the mere thought of what he was about to ask. “Did I hurt you?”

The heartbreaking concern in his voice made her promptly shake her head, wiping off her face with the back of her hands.

“N-No, Vegeta… It’s just…” She sighed, soothingly caressing his cheeks, trying to show him that her emotional outburst had nothing to do with his actions. It seemed to do the trick, and Vegeta’s tension gradually vanished as he cautiously started petting her hair. “Then, what’s the matter? Do you…? Do you want to stop?” He enquired again, still not understanding what the problem was.

Bulma panicked at his offer, and pulled his face even closer, pressing her brow against his.

“Gods! No! I don’t want you to stop! I just…”

His fingers lingered on the still wet corners of her bright, tear-stained eyes, delicately wiping them off. “You just what, woman?” He prodded again in a low, breathy voice.

“I just…” Bulma exhaled shakily again. “I guess I just can’t believe you’re here, with me…” She whispered timidly, fresh tears pooling in her eyes again. “I… I th-thought I’d n-never see you again…”

Vegeta observed her thoughtfully, trying to absorb every detail about the shy, tremulous woman lying under him. Her fingertips never abandoned his cheeks and there was an air of wonder in her eyes, as if she were expecting him to fade away, to dematerialize from the room, leaving to never come back.

_Just as he’d done to her in the past…_

Had she finally stopped trusting him?

And, could he really blame her if that was the case?

Vegeta knew now what he’d known, in his heart, all along: he’d made a huge mistake in abandoning her the way he had, without even a goodbye or a mere explanation. She was _his woman_ , the only person who’d been brave enough to get close to him, the only one _good enough_ to get under his skin, _the mother of his child_ …

He felt his manhood still firmly buried within her enticing body, and all he wanted to do was to take her, to make love to her and make her doubts and fears finally go away.

_Did this mean he was ready to come back to her for good?_

His lips kissed her newly in a hot, impassioned kiss, his unruly hips thrusting into her in unison with just the same ardor, wanting to possess her, to make her his.

_If only she’d let him this time…_

“ _I am_ _here_ , Bulma,” he promised, kissing her again and keenly gulping down the moans that left her lips once more, like music to his ears, unmistakably reassuring him that she still wanted all he had to offer.

Bulma threw her head back, hissing in pleasure while her man’s unyielding body resumed his motions, plunging into her slowly, again and again, gradually making her forget about her fears and apprehensions as he kept reawakening her desire for him like only he could. His hand travelled to the nape of her neck, her pale throat, now lightly coated in perspiration, fully exposed to him. He brought her closer, licking and nibbling her creamy skin, feeling her fluttering pulse beneath sharp, ravenous Saiyan teeth.

Vegeta smirked mischievously against her vulnerable flesh, already knowing the answer to his next question…

“Do you _still_ want me to stop, _woman_?” He asked maliciously as another powerful thrust pinned her mercilessly against the bed.

“Gods, no! Vegeta, _please_ …” She begged, lifting her head, and looking him right in the eye. Her mouth was now wide open, panting wildly as her sharp nails clung to his broad shoulders like a lifeline. “Please don’t stop… _I… I want you_ …”

_That did it…_

The warrior roared in retaliation, fiercely crushing his lips into hers, and she gladly received him, growling and mewling inside of him. She was no longer able to recall her tears, her dizzy mind completely consumed by the relentless way in which Vegeta’s thick cock rammed into her, over and over again, as he possessively embraced her against him, so tightly she could feel his powerful heartbeat thrashing against her chest.

_It wasn’t long before she needed even more from him…._

“Vegeta…” Her warm, misty breath moaned in the curve of his neck. “ _Please_ …”

His name on her lips drove him even crazier. “Please what, woman?” He demanded breathlessly, his thick fingers sinking even further into her frail shoulder blades as he kept hugging her, making Bulma gasp in response. It was impossible to forget just how strong and dangerous this man really was, how many beings had suffered and perished by his hand, and yet, she knew too damn well just how much pleasure those same gifted hands were able to provide.  

All Hell broke loose when she turned her head to the side all of a sudden, aggressively scrapping his flushed cheek as she forced him to look at her.

“ _More_ …” She demanded in a passionate, hoarse whisper.

Her unexpected demanding words, together with her sudden physical, almost animalistic behavior, pushed the Saiyan even further to the edge, and one of his hands let go of her upper back, aggressively palming one of her plump ass cheeks so he could lift her hips and bring her even closer, burying his thick length even deeper, making her taste every single inch of him.

“Fuck!” Bulma whimpered, desperately clawing at his shoulders when the warrior finally allowed himself to let go, fucking her thoroughly and without restrain. The previously dead silent room was soon permeated by their moans and grunts and the sound of their drenched flesh clashing against each other in a desperate quest for release.

“I’m... _I’m close!_ I’m…” She cried, biting on the hard flesh of his shoulder, holding him tightly.

Vegeta could already feel that old familiar heat pooling in his loins. His hardness kept crashing into her, secretly amazed, like he always was, that her marvelous body could blithely take it all so willingly.

Just as he was praying that she’d cum for him before he came undone far too soon, he felt, at last, her climax take possession of her, hitting her brutally when her tight, wet little cunt hugged him in a fierce grip, milking him violently, begging him to follow her into that deep, sweet abyss only she could drag him into.

“ _Ve-Vegeta_ …” She sobbed as he kept hammering into her, fucking her through her mind-blowing orgasm until his warm essence finally spilled right into her soft writhing body.

Her name escaped Vegeta’s quivery lips, and his forehead found her shoulder, resting on it as his solid form kept rocking gently against her hips, prolonging their incredible pleasure for as long as he could.

They lay together for countless minutes, sharing a quiet, intimate embrace. Bulma’s previously ardent touch soon turned gentle once again, and she comfortingly run her hands across the marred skin of his back, lazily tracing every single scar and imperfection as she felt his hefty body still breathing deeply on top of her. Even though her man had always been extremely careful about trying not to crush her with his compact but surprisingly heavy weight, there were times when he’d completely forget and let go, capturing her beneath him. He probably didn’t know just how much she actually enjoyed it, relishing the few precious moments in which Vegeta was able to fully relax in her presence.

“I’ve missed you.…” Bulma whispered in his ear, never ceasing her calming caresses. “I’ve missed this… _Us_ …”

Vegeta placed a soft kiss on her shoulder and raised his head wearily. He feared another sudden emotional outburst would take place, but he found her big, blue eyes sparkling brightly in the dark instead, smiling sweetly at him. She looked drowsy but happy, and her half-closed eyes told him she was completely spent already and about to fall asleep any minute now. He smirked, carefully removing a few damp turquoise locks away from her beautiful face, and he kissed her lips affectionately, feeling her respond sleepily to his intimate gesture. He slowly pulled out, wincing at the sudden loss of her heat, and he rolled over, laying on his side and wrapping his arms around her waist at once, bringing her closer to him and allowing her to take refuge in his reassuring warmth. Bulma smiled, snuggling against his solid chest and returning his embrace contentedly before she finally drifted off into a deep, peaceful slumber.

Vegeta rested beside her for a while, resisting the urge to close his equally worn-out eyes as the events of the day run through his mind repeatedly. There he was, holding his stunning mate in his arms, somehow finding it hard to believe he’d killed a monster in cold blood just mere hours ago. The most surprising thing of all was that Bulma hadn’t really asked him any questions, blindly trusting his judgement and his actions, truly believing he was doing what was the right thing for him to do.

_She trusted him entirely, with no reservations, and she’d even wanted to make love to him afterwards, completely giving herself to him…_

He sighed blearily, burying his nose in her messy wavy hair one final time in that now too-familiar gesture that always seemed to calm him down, both keeping him grounded and yet allowing him to elude reality at the same time, transporting him far away from the worries of his troubled heart.

His arms squeezed her tighter, forcing a soft, lethargic moan out of Bulma’s pouty lips.

_She was real._

She was real, and she was here, with him, tonight.

_And for now, that was all that really mattered…_

“I’ve missed you too, woman…” He mumbled ashamedly into the night.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, well...
> 
> It finally happened!
> 
> In the next chapter, Vegeta will take Bulma on a little excursion...
> 
> EDIT: The amazing @greatrageshortlegs drew a little fanart about this chapter on her tumblr! Check it out! Her work is lovely!


	24. A Hot Excursion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the morning after their night together, Vegeta decides to take Bulma on a little excursion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I'm back!
> 
> I'd like to apologize for taking so long to publish this update, but I must admit, things got kind of rough for me during these past couple of months. 
> 
> So, here's the new chapter. I hope you like it, and I'd like to thank you all for your patience. I got my motivation back, so I'm fully committed to this story and I still have a few things in store for you guys.
> 
> Enjoy!

A low raspy voice, five warm fingers caressing her bare shoulder and the smell of a fresh cup of coffee awoke Bulma from her deep sleep. She blinked a few times and smiled languidly when her groggy mind realized the voice attempting to wake her up was none other than her lover’s.

“Bulma, wake up,” he whispered once more, sitting by her side on the bed and quietly offering her the hot beverage.

Bulma yawned loudly as she slowly sat on the bed, leaning her back on the fluffy pillows and lazily stretching her limbs before finally reaching for the blue cup Vegeta kept patiently holding in his hand.

“Thank you,” she mumbled gratefully, stirring her drink with its little spoon and taking a sip.

It was perfect, with the right amount of milk and sugar, just the way she liked it, and she secretly wondered how that was even possible when the Saiyan had never even made coffee for her before. Bulma smiled inwardly, glad to learn her mate had paid more attention to her daily habits in the past than he’d probably like to admit.

“It’s very good. Thank you, Vegeta,” she said again, gently stroking his shoulder, making him simply nod in silent reply; was it her imagination, or was he blushing a bit at her words of appreciation?

Bulma finally took a good look at him, taking in his relaxed stance. He looked well-rested, just like her, which was surprising considering she’d disrupted his sleep in the middle of the night, initiating what had turned out to be another round of tender but mind-blowing sex. Even though she’d been the one climbing on top of him, he’d soon rolled them over, taking full control of their coupling and leisurely making love to her. It wasn’t unusual for her Prince to be domineering in bed, and yet, the woman flushed now when she recalled the extremely possessive way in which he’d taken her the night before.

As she savored her comforting drink, Bulma couldn’t help but experience a tinge of embarrassment too at her excessively emotional behavior. She’d never cried in bed with Vegeta before, in fact, she’d barely ever shed tears in front of him, being the proud woman that she was and knowing how much the warrior despised her so-called _‘stupid human sensibility’_ , and yet, she’d ended up crying more times than she cared to confess during their entire trip together. Still, Vegeta had never mocked or reprimanded her for her hypersensitive displays, choosing to comfort and soothe her instead. Everything about his conduct seemed to be different, from his patience when it came to her, to the incredibly affectionate way in which he’d been treating her.

It felt almost surreal, but here they were, sitting side by side in bed, quietly drinking a cup of coffee, almost as if they were a regular couple sharing an intimate, everyday moment together when, in fact, their relationship had always been anything but ordinary. She could count with the fingers of one hand the amount of times he’d actually been present when she’d wake up in the morning, due to his brutally gruesome daily training sessions, which he usually started before dawn. Whenever she’d found him still by her side in the break of day, it’d been only when his body hadn’t reached fulfillment from their previous night activities and he still wanted to assuage his gluttonous Saiyan appetites. After a passionate morning session of marathon sex, he’d leave to train to the Gravity Room for a couple of hours before her mother would call him for breakfast. In those occasions, he’d certainly given her her fair share of pleasure, but his almost pathological fear of intimacy had always been there, standing between them like a hard-hearted, opaque wall, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t felt a tad hurt at times by that distant attitude.

The man she’d managed to seduce on Earth was very different from the one sitting by her side, clad only in a pair of comfortable grey sweatpants, eyeing her circumspectly from the corner of the eye as she finished her drink.     

“Do you want more?” He asked, turning around slightly and grabbing her now empty cup.

By now, Bulma was absolutely dumbfounded by his attentive behavior.

“Uh? Um, no, it’s fine…”

She stretched indolently one final time, allowing Vegeta to admire her lovely body, dimly illuminated by the warm colors of sunrise. It pleased him to notice her foolish insecurities and apprehensions from the previous night were long gone; if anything, it was he who felt a lack of confidence on how to act around her under their current circumstances. Even though he’d promised her a week together, he had no idea on what to do with her beyond the small surprise he had in store for her that morning. He could only hope Bulma would eventually take the initiative about everything else regarding this whole _‘relationship’_ business.

“I guess I could make us some breakfast. Are you hungry?” Bulma continued, starting to get off the bed.

“No,” he cut her off, standing beside her as he held both empty cups in one hand.

“No?” She asked, unable to hide the surprise in her voice.

_He wasn’t hungry?_

_That was new…_

“I thought…” He replied, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Yes?” Bulma prodded gently, encouraging him to finish his thoughts.

He looked at her with an almost neutral expression on his face, secretly hoping he wouldn’t make an utter fool of himself, before finally gathering the courage to make his proposal. “I thought I’d take you somewhere first. There’s something I’d like to show you…”

His words rapidly caught her attention, and Bulma couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows a little in wonderment. “Really?” She smiled. “What is it?”

Vegeta smirked, the evident curiosity present on her pretty face suddenly bringing some of his poise back regarding his little plan.

“You’ll see…” He replied mysteriously, swiftly turning around and walking out of the small bedroom. “Get dressed,” he instructed. “And put on something warm.”

Bulma stood completely naked in the middle of the room, both astonished and excited by the prospect of going somewhere special with Vegeta. She looked around and, seeing her mate had placed the suitcases containing their clothing on the floor, she knelt down, looking for something warm and comfortable to wear. She promptly felt giddy with anticipation, knowing this was the very first time Vegeta had taken the initiative when it came to making plans to do something together, and she couldn’t wait to see what he had in store for her. Whatever it was, the fact that he’d made the effort to come up with something was more than enough to make her happy. Bulma chose a pair of old jeans and a cozy white sweater and, just as she placed them on the bed and was about to get dressed, a soft sound behind her startled her, making her turn around immediately.

She found Vegeta standing there, leaning on the bedroom’s door with his arms crossed, fully dressed in human clothes and a pair of sneakers, and it was pretty obvious he’d been shamelessly staring at her naked form while she’d been distractedly looking for something to wear. For some reason, probably because of the incredible night they’d just spent together, Bulma felt oddly confident in her own body, and the unequivocal thirst present in her mate’s eyes did absolutely nothing to make that new-found self-assurance go away.

“See something you like?” She asked coquettishly, placing her hands on her hips and winking at him in a playful, flirtatious manner, making a rush of heat spread across the warrior’s face.

“Tch!” He quickly replied, simulating indifference as he privately struggled with the strong urge to grab those delicious ivory hips and pin them right into the mattress. “I was just wondering what the Hell was taking you so long…”

A proud smirk drew itself on Bulma’s lips. “Is that so?” She inquired again. “Because I could have sworn you were ogling me like some pervy old man…” She carried on, grabbing the cozy-looking sweater and putting it on.

“Don’t be ridiculous, woman!” He responded, his cock now twitching at the sight of the gorgeous woman slipping into a pair of old blue jeans and wearing absolutely nothing underneath. Whether his mischievous little mate knew what she was doing, he didn’t know, but she appeared to be completely oblivious to his presence as she knelt on the soft carpet once again, looking for some suitable shoes to wear.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch…” She mumbled vaguely, picking up a pair of thick socks. “I’m almost done here. Besides, I thought we were on vacation, so what’s the rush?”

The Saiyan remained silent for a minute, salivating at the creamy expanse of flesh impishly exposed every time her sweater rose as she bent over while she maneuvered to put her socks on, still sited on the floor. His fingers dug on his forearms on their own volition, and he briefly wondered if it would be such a bad thing to give up his pride, send his previous plans for an excursion to Hell and fuck her brains out right then and there. Then again, the woman seemed to have gone back to being the little spitfire he’d fallen for more than a year ago. Proving himself incapable of controlling his urges around her would only serve to swell her newly inflated ego even more.

“You truly are a vulgar woman…” He mumbled unintelligibly, feeling the tips of his ears burn disgracefully.

“Uh?”

“Nothing. I’ll wait outside. If you’re not ready in five minutes, I’m leaving without you,” he concluded, leaving the house without so much as waiting for a reply.

Bulma smiled widely as she leisurely put on a pair of walking boots, knowing without a doubt that her grumpy Saiyan was going nowhere without her.

_She felt good._

_Really good..._

It was as if things were slowly going back to the way they used to be when they’d first started to feel that unmistakable attraction towards each other and their volatile dance of seduction had begun. All those arguments, sometimes about the most insignificant issues, sometimes about vital ones, when they’d yell, bicker and even insult each other, only to end up making up fervidly in the most unusual, unsafe places. Always thriving on the danger of getting caught, and on that heavy, unescapable fear both lovers felt in the back of their minds, knowing what they were doing was wrong, a forbidden adventure that wasn’t meant to be, and yet secretly enjoying just how damn easy it was for the two of them to get lost, to detach themselves from the rest of the world, cursing anything and anyone who might dare to get in the way of the feverish desire that kept bringing them back together.

Perhaps that was the reason why it’d hurt so much to see him disappear, walking away from her and their child’s life without so much as a goodbye or, at the very least, one that hadn’t taken place while they were both asleep. The memory of Vegeta holding and kissing her and their son in their sleep before abandoning them suddenly flashed through her mind but, as she tied her hair in a messy bun, she did her best to ignore those sappy, sentimental emotions.

Bulma sighed, taking one final look in the full-length mirror before leaving her room and joining her mate outside. Today was a good day, and hopefully the beginning of an even better week which, if she was lucky, would end up with Vegeta finally making the choice she knew in her heart was the right one for him: going back to Earth with her and Trunks, right where he belonged.

She left the house, noticing Vegeta hadn’t even bothered to close the entrance door, and she found him sitting on a large rock nearby, in that unmistakable stance that was both casual and oddly solemn. In moments like this, it was impossible to forget he was a Prince, after all.

“Should I encapsulate the house?”

Vegeta stood on his feet, deep in thought, newly scanning their surroundings in search of any foreign ki signal but, just as he’d previously thought, there was none, and the entire population had disappeared from the planet, except for the ones living and working in the metropolitan area they’d visited the previous night.

“Bring it with us, just in case,” he finally determined, watching her through pensive eyes as she pressed the button by the door and held the resulting tiny capsule in her hand, safely putting it inside one of her pockets.

“Alright,” she exclaimed impatiently, literally throwing herself in his arms and holding him tightly, much to his surprise. “I’m ready! We’re flying, right?”

“We are,” he replied, slowly taking off into the air.

The place he was taking her to wasn’t too far away from where they’d settled, and he hoped it hadn’t changed all that much after all this time. Just how long had it been since he’d last visited Virggo? Ten? Fifteen years? He wasn’t even sure anymore, all he could recall was having to endure Raditz and Nappa’s drunken appalling stories about all the cheap whores they’d fucked while he’d been away from the city, taking solace in the wilderness and isolating himself from everything and everyone.

Vegeta felt Bulma laying her head upon his shoulder, tickling his skin with her warm breath. He glanced at his woman from the corner of the eye, and he gladly noticed the excitement now present on her lovely face. He subtly pressed her lithe body a little closer against his, the absence of his Saiyan armor allowing him to perfectly feel every soft curve melting against his vigorous body, making a shiver run through his spine. It was impossible to ignore the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her white sweater, just like he couldn’t ignore the naughty look she was now giving him.

“What is it?” He finally asked.

“Nothing…” Bulma replied with fake naivete. “I was just thinking how you haven’t even kissed me yet this morning…”

The warrior’s throat bobbed uncomfortably.

_Oh yeah, it looked like the old, brazen Bulma Briefs was back in full force…_

“And why the blazes would I do that?” He replied, frowning in a vain attempt to conceal his embarrassment that his woman recognized immediately. For a man that adored taking control when they were in bed together, he could be such a prig sometimes, and she couldn’t help but find his prudish behavior irresistibly cute; there was nothing she enjoyed more in this world than teasing him endlessly for it.   

“No reason,” she shrugged indifferently, before boldly licking his earlobe. She did it just once, but it was enough to make Vegeta groan in response, unconsciously digging his fingers deeper into her flesh.

“Bulma…” He threatened in a low, intimidating voice.

“Hn?” She asked innocently, licking it again and nipping it slightly.

“I suggest you stop that unless you wish to…”

He ceased his words at the unexpected sensation of her teeth sinking into his hot cheek, biting hard enough to make him halt his flight at once. They remained still for a few moments, quietly floating in the cold morning air while the Prince tried to keep his emotions in check. Vegeta looked into her eyes, the devilish smirk adorning her juicy lips warning him that her mischievous little mind was now plotting her next mischief. 

_That damn woman really had no shame…_

Just as she was about to approach him again with the undeniable intention of teasing him once more, he gently but firmly held her jaw, looking her fiercely in the eye.

“Enough!” He whispered ferociously against her mouth before crushing it against hers, moaning at her immediate response to his desperate, almost angry kiss.

Bulma smirked triumphantly against his lips at both her victory and Vegeta’s eagerness, knowing that deep down he was loving every second of that passionate kiss. All it’d taken was a little push for him to give in to her, that’s the way things had always been between them. They kissed for a few more minutes, his arm possessively encircling her waist while hers were laced around his neck with the same ardor as their tongues hungrily explored each other’s mouth. The couple was still floating in the air, and Bulma cherished the sensation of knowing she was in such a vulnerable position and yet, having the absolute certainty that Vegeta would always catch her in her fall.

Bulma finally broke the kiss, panting mildly and pressing her brow against his, nuzzling his nose cheekily.

“There,” she smiled proudly. “Was it really so hard to give in to me?”

“Hn. Don’t flatter yourself,” he replied arrogantly in a hoarse voice, the fierce blush invading his tanned skin betraying is false aloofness. “I’ve only done it so you’d shut your loud, annoying mouth for five minutes.”

Her cocky smile grew even wider. “Really? Mmm… It seems to me that you enjoy kissing my loud, annoying mouth far too much, _my darling_ …”

“Well…” He continued, running his thumb across her lower lip one final time before finally letting go of her face, holding her tight against him with both arms. “Perhaps I am a glutton for punishment, after all…”

“Mmm…” She moaned in agreement, delicately kissing his cheek one final time before going back to hiding her face in the crook of his neck, silently letting him know she was ready for him to resume his flight. “You’re right. You do have a very, _very_ healthy appetite, _Vegeta_ …”

“Must you always have the last word?”

“Yup!”

Vegeta shook his head and quietly restarted their journey, pretending to be irritated but secretly pleased to see his mate finally getting some of her old spunk back. He hoped Bulma would be satisfied with their small intimate moment together, and so it seemed, because he didn’t hear a peep out of her until they eventually reached their destination. As soon as Vegeta’s feet touched the ground, his heart was put at ease when he discovered that his old favorite spot on the planet had remained virtually untouched.

He kindly rubbed his mate’s back with one hand as he kept holding her still with the other, communicating without words that they’d finally arrived. Bulma stood on wobbly legs for a second, looking at him through sleepy eyes and blinking lazily, making Vegeta unable to hold back an amused chuckle. It looked like the silly woman had fallen asleep during their journey.    

“We’ve arrived?” She asked, rubbing her eyes drowsily and stifling back a little yawn.

Vegeta assented, releasing her when he saw she was finally able to stand on her own.

“What was it you wanted to show me, then?”

“See it for yourself…” He replied, encouraging Bulma to turn around with a nod of his head so she could discover his surprise. She let go of him, following his instructions without arguing, her curiosity clearly evident in her big blue eyes.

“What is it? Why…?”

She couldn’t even finish her last question, immediately rendered speechless by her new discovery.

“Wow…” Bulma gasped in wonder, taking a few steps forward and inspecting her surroundings.

In front of her, she saw what appeared to be some kind of natural lake, but the polished dark green stone surrounding it, and a couple of old wooden benches nearby, told her it had been, at least partially, built by the hand of man. The warm crystalline waters released a faint steam, and there was a quiet, calm solemnity about the place. Bulma had to admit that it truly was a magnificent view. 

She heard Vegeta’s footsteps approaching her, and she instantly felt his comforting presence envelop her as he stood by her side.

“This is so beautiful, Vegeta…” She whispered in awe.

Vegeta nodded in silent agreement, crossing his arms regally and inspecting the place.

“These are Virggo’s Thermal Baths,” he explained coolly. “It was said that these waters have healing properties for both the body and the mind.”

“Really? And how did you know about this place?”

Vegeta hesitated for a second before offering his mate an answer, fearing she’d get the wrong idea if he told her the truth. Eventually, he concluded that it shouldn’t matter, after all, weren’t they giving this _‘honest relationship’_ thing a chance?

“I visited this planet on a few occasions, years ago.”

Bulma squinted, her mouth immediately turning into a distinctive shape of disgust.

“Really?”

“ _My, my_ … We _are_ jealous, aren’t we, _woman_?” Vegeta smirked maliciously, masking his internal embarrassment about his revelation. Even though a part of him enjoyed Bulma’s obvious jealousy, he didn’t want to hurt her feelings either, and he certainly didn’t want to give her the impression that he was the kind of man who’d indulge in certain sexual activities in places such as the ones those two third-class assholes used to frequent.

Bulma scowled, huffing proudly and looking away from him almost offended.

“Jealous? _Me?_ Ha!” She retorted. “Keep dreaming, _Veggie-boy_ …” She crossed her arms, imitating his actions, and she proceeded to walk closer to the hot lake, noticing a few large steps carved inside in the same dark green stone, clearly designed to access the semi-artificial pool with greater ease.

“I guess I didn’t take you for the kind of man who enjoyed visiting places like this. That’s all…” Bulma continued, examining the warm, crystal-like waters, wondering how safe bathing in here would truly be.

She felt a fast rush of air on her back, and before she knew it, Vegeta was standing right behind her, his strong arms wrapped greedily around her waist as he whispered passionately in her ear.

“I am not,” he confessed, finally putting her doubts to rest.

Bulma turned her head to the side, smiling in satisfaction, her sweet, warm breath ghosting over his lips.

“I know…” She replied, resting her hands on top of his and kissing him softly once more, allowing the warrior to taste the honesty pouring from her kiss. She knew with absolute certainty that her man would never sleep with the kind of women that worked on Planet Virggo, but she found it enormously humorous that he was trying to rile her up and make her jealous considering the possessive way in which he’d treated her the previous night.

She turned around in his embrace, her mouth never abandoning his, pressing her breasts against his chest and caressing his cheeks as she deepened their kiss, relishing how relaxed and eager Vegeta was acting towards her that morning.

_Yes…_

_Maybe there was still hope for them, after all…_

“So…” Bulma muttered seductively against his lips, her fingers stroking his cheeks affectionately. He raised an eyebrow, completely entranced by those shimmery turquoise eyes of hers.

“So?”

“I assume you brought me here to go for a swim?”

Vegeta nodded. The smile on her flawless face told him she was pleased with his offer, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel a tad nervous about spending time with her like this. He now understood what she’d meant when she’d said that all she wanted was some time alone with him. He’d thought the idea ridiculous at first, after all, hadn’t they already spent time together in the past? They’d had sex, bathed and eaten in each other’s company more times than he could count but, if he was honest with himself, he knew things had never been like this between them.

The impending doom of the mysterious androids, his neurotic obsession with the defeat of his now-deceased nemesis, with the added stress that his abandonment of her and their unborn child had put on their already fragile relationship, hadn’t been the most favorable circumstances for a meaningful bond to develop between them. In fact, one of the main reasons why he’d left the Earth after the Cell Games had been due to the panic his heart experienced at the thought of being bonded to Bulma. Not only because of his natural fear of intimacy with another being, but because, deep down, he truly believed his woman deserved better.

And now she was standing here, in his arms, her soothing touch making all his demons and qualms go away into the dark unexplored corners of his tortured mind, tempting him, luring him to just relax, to embrace everything this unique woman had to offer and let go… 

“I… I know how much you enjoy bathing, and I thought that you…”

Bulma cut him off again, the enticing sensation of her hungry lips silencing his awkward explanation with another kiss. She knew how hard expressing himself verbally had always been for him, and she had no words to explain what it meant seeing how much thought he’d put into coming up with a plan to make her happy.

“It’s perfect, Vegeta,” she replied with the most dazzling of smiles. “Absolutely perfect…”

The Saiyan held her gaze for an instant, allowing himself a subtle, treacherous smile of satisfaction. He removed her fragile hands away from his face, kissing her fingertips delicately before finally letting go of her and turning around, walking towards one of the old wooden benches nearby, where he placed his clothing and sneakers, which he swiftly removed. He stood completely naked in front of her, giving her his back and, abruptly, he jumped into the lake.

Bulma remained still by the stairs of the artificial pool, her pearly white teeth instinctively biting her lip at the sight of her mate swimming naked and with absolutely no inhibitions in her presence. His perfect muscles moved with the grace of an Olympic swimmer, the hot, transparent waters bathing his bronzed skin as he swam at a pace she knew was actually slow for him, but which would be almost superhuman for any Earthling. At times he submerged his body, completely disappearing from her view for a few seconds, only to reappear on the other side of the lake. There was something almost animalistic in his smooth movements, and it occurred to her that it was as if he possessed an endless field of explosive pent-up energy that _had_ to be released or else he’d die.

After swimming from one side to the other of the lake several times, he finally swam casually in her direction, keeping his dark, smoldering eyes fixated on her as she waited in anticipation for his next move. Once he finally reached the stone-carved stairs, he walked up a few of them, exposing his torso to her as the water keep covering his body from the waist down from her starving eyes. Playful rivulets of water run through his perfectly sculpted chest and abdomen, and some of the many scars that marred his skin had turned a faint pink from the heat. He wiped the excess water from his face, offering her another arrogant, playful smirk.     

“What’s the matter, _little human_? Are you afraid to join me?” He challenged.

Bulma looked at him in mocking disbelief, shaking her head slowly, her hands firmly placed on her hips in an act of pure defiance. She chuckled, walking to the bench Vegeta had placed his clothes on and sitting down, completely ignoring him as she removed her boots and socks. When she was done she stood up slowly, giving him her back, just as he’d done before her. A slight, discrete peek told her she had his full undivided attention, and with the knowledge that two could play this game, she decided to deliberately put on a little show for him.

Her small hands took off her oversized white sweater, revealing her inviting hourglass figure and the glowing alabaster skin of her back bit by bit. The warrior’s unshakeable eyes couldn’t miss the enticing way in which her generous breasts bounced when she bent over, those same hands now travelling to the waist of her stone washed jeans, unbuttoning them unhurriedly, swaying her hips a little, side to side, as the last item of clothing bared, not only a pair of perfect long legs, but the achingly smooth rosy labia between her thighs.

Vegeta’s fists kept clenching and unclenching excitedly underneath the water, hating to admit he hadn’t anticipated just how hard it would be for him to keep his darkest impulses at bay with a naked Bulma by his side. After having had his fill of the woman just the previous night, he’d hoped his hunger would have been sated, at least temporarily. But one look at his woman seemed to be enough to drive him over the edge, and desire burned brightly in his gaze when she quietly extended her hand to him, silently asking for help. He immediately took it, watching carefully as she charmingly submerged her little toes in the water to test its temperature, and he smirked in satisfaction when he saw the approval on her beautiful face.

Bulma smiled gratefully at Vegeta when she reached the spot he was standing at.

“Thank you,” she whispered, letting go of his hand and moving past him, reaching the end of the stairs and swimming away from him.

At first, the Saiyan didn’t quite know what to do.

_Should he follow her and swim by her side?_

The woman appeared to be doing just fine on her own, so he simply sat on the jade green stone, right where he was, enjoying the sensation of the soothing waters covering his entire form up to his shoulders. He closed his eyes, sighing in relief, and a strange sense of déjà vu engulfed him: the memories of the teenager he used to be, resorting to loneliness as a coping mechanism to deal with events he’d been far too young to be exposed to. If anyone had told him back then that someday he’d come back to Virggo already mated and with a child of his own, he would have found it an impossible idea, and yet, there he was, unable to take his eyes of the extraordinary woman that had erupted into his world like a hurricane, turning his life upside down.

Bulma was having the time of her life, sometimes swimming leisurely and, at other times, splashing lightheartedly or simply floating in the warm relaxing waters with her eyes closed and a blissful smile on her face. Vegeta looked her over in complete silence with dark, predatory eyes, taking in every detail of that luscious body. He’d certainly had the opportunity to appreciate it the night before, but now he loved being able to enjoy it in broad daylight, and the best part of it was seeing how happy and uninhibited his little mate had become.

It reminded him once again of the early stages of their relationship, and the first time he’d experienced a pang of jealousy before she was even his, on a dark summer night when, just as he’d left his beloved Gravity Room after one of his daily masochistic training sessions, he’d caught Bulma and her then human lover skinny dipping inside Capsule Corp’s massive swimming pool. The sighting had been brief, and certainly unintentional, but the astonishing image of the woman’s nude body temptingly bathed by the pale moonlight had forever remained imprinted on his mind, prompting some very dark tantalizing fantasies during his lonely, and very often sleepless, nights.

_Looking back, perhaps that was the moment he’d decided, at least subconsciously, to one day conquer her and make her his…_

Vegeta had been so engrossed, he didn’t even notice Bulma swimming in his direction until she was almost by his side. Once she reached him, she joined him by the stairs, sitting on top of one of his strong thighs and freely wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Hey…” She whispered happily, nuzzling his cheek with her cute wet nose. “Are you okay?”

The Saiyan’s hands instinctively found her narrow waist, his fingers tingling at the touch of her skin as he observed her quietly. Part of her turquoise hair was still safely dry, pulled into a cute little bun, but a few damp unruly hair locks were now loose, framing her pretty face. Her bangs were getting longer, just like the rest of her hair, and he gently pulled them aside so he could better appreciate those bottomless blue eyes. She looked happy as a lark, and her usually porcelain-like skin had now turned a delectable rosy pink from the natural heat of the healing waters.

“Mmm…” Bulma moaned softly, kissing his jaw lovingly and burrowing her face in the curve of his neck, pressing her nude, enticing body even closer to him. “This is Heaven…” She susurrated, running her long fingers lazily across the nape of his neck.

Vegeta closed his eyes and remained silent, enthralled by her touch and the incredibly comforting sensation of her inviting figure melding perfectly against his. His hands kept caressing the alluring curve between her hips and waist, delighting in the minuscule reactions she so desperately tried to hide. He knew just how ticklish his woman could be and he enjoyed tormenting her mercilessly with his playful petting.

After a while, Bulma’s breath gradually slowed down, unable to recall when was the last time she’d felt as blissfully relaxed as in that very moment.

“This is so beautiful, Vegeta…” She said again, laying tiny kisses all over the skin of his neck, which felt even hotter than the water itself, before finally raising her head and holding his gaze once more. “How did you even know this place?” She asked curiously.

Her clever fingers never ceased her soothing ministrations and, by now, Vegeta was having a hard time thinking straight. It was a rare mixture of feeling both incredibly tranquil and excited at once and, as always, he couldn’t help but wonder if his mate truly knew the extent of the power of her touch or whether she was just acting naturally, driven by instinct and relying on her natural charms alone.

“I used to come here whenever we visited the planet,” he finally replied, losing himself in her bright eyes as his arms encircled her waist and pulled her even closer.

“Who’s _‘we’_?”

“Nappa, Raditz and myself.” 

His answer was immediate and honest, free now from any of the usual discomfort and restraint he used to experience whenever Bulma asked him any questions. In their early days, he’d always felt uncomfortable, almost the victim of some kind of interrogation, by her snoopy questions, but now things were different.

Now, he’d come to trust this woman.

_He trusted her with his life…_

It was an emotion that should have been making him run for the hills, and yet, he simply kept holding her against him, freely offering her a glimpse of his past.

“I see…” Bulma muttered thoughtfully. “So, they slept with those…? With those girls when they came here?”

“Yes.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“So, you just…? You just came here? All by yourself?”

“I did.”

Her fingers dug a little deeper into his flesh, and Vegeta immediately recognized that look of pity in her eyes he knew too well by now. One of his hands reached her face, delicately caressing her skin in an effort to distract her from her thoughts of commiseration. She gratefully welcomed his gentle touch, rubbing her cheek against his rugged palm as she held his gaze.

“How old were you?” She asked in a hushed whisper.

Vegeta shrugged with indifference, wondering why she even cared about such trivial matters at this point, but indulging her once again anyway.

“I’m not sure… Fifteen? Sixteen? It’s hard to tell in human years anyway…”

Bulma remained silent, pondering the new facts her mate had just revealed to her.

_A teenager._

Vegeta had merely been a teenager back then, just around the same age she’d been back when she’d met Goku during her quest to find the mythical Dragon Balls.

_Gods!_

The more she thought about her young teenage self and reminisced on all the adventures and dangers she’d put herself in during her reckless exploits, the more she realized her troubles looked like child’s play compared to the horrors her mate had witnessed and been exposed to in his youth. Despite the fact that they’d lived together in Capsule Corp. for three years, it was only during these past few weeks that she’d finally gotten to see a side of Vegeta she’d never thought possible before. A past filled with experiences, so extreme in every way, that had forced his innocence to be cut short way too soon.

His confession back in the ship about Nappa and the horrible things he’d done to that poor young slave, so terrible he hadn’t even dared to openly discuss them with her, made her suspect that if the older brute had been shameless enough to brag about raping a young woman in front of his Prince, then he and Raditz would surely have had no trouble relating their grotesque sexual experiences with a much too young Vegeta.

Bulma shivered in horror at the ghastly images running uncontrollably through her mind, and her involuntary physical reaction wasn’t lost on her lover, his slightly trembling calloused fingers still lingering over her cheek.  

“Bulma…” He finally mumbled, trying to come up with a way to change the topic of discussion. It’d been such a perfect day so far and he didn’t want to ruin things by discussing his tortured past anymore.  

As if she’d read his thoughts, and before he could say another word, Bulma’s lips found his, saving him the effort of finding an excuse and swallowing his nervousness, meshing her body with his, instantly feeling as if they’d become one. Vegeta reciprocated immediately, moaning into her mouth as his fingers clutched her waist, their tongues dancing together, sharing just the sheer joy of simply being together, enjoying this rare moment of peace.

When they eventually separated, almost out of breath, the Prince kept his eyes locked on hers, letting go of her small body momentarily to reach her hair, undoing her bun and letting her hair down, appreciating the chaotic waterfall of blue waves as he took in every single detail of her gorgeous features, from those endless turquoise eyes to her succulent, inflamed lips. His hands traced a languid path across her face, from her temples to the blushing sides of her cheeks, caressing its flawless contours until he reached her jaw, and then her long, swan-like neck, where Vegeta’s rough fingertips encountered the thin, silvery chain of the blue pendant he’d left for her on their last night together on Earth.

Vegeta’s face contorted in a subtle but distinctive pained frown as he set his eyes on the valuable jewel.

“I found it in my nightstand,” Bulma said, feeling that his strange reaction most likely meant the ornament held some special meaning to him. “I assumed it was for me…” She continued in a voice which was half a question and half a whisper.

The Saiyan raised his gaze, squinting his eyes imperceptibly and nodding in confirmation, he then turned his sights on the prized gem once more, looking mysteriously deep in thought.

“It was my Mother’s…” He confessed absently in a hushed whisper.

Bulma swallowed heavily, holding her breath in shock at his revelation, her hands clutched his shoulders tighter while her mind tried to elaborate a reply.

_Vegeta’s mother…_

Now that was the one person her mate had never _ever_ talked about. She recalled having been able to worm a story or two about his father, King Vegeta, out of him, but she’d never dared to enquire about his mother. She knew Vegeta had been very adamant about her having Trunks removed before her due date, alleging to how dangerous birthing a Saiyan child could be, and he’d briefly mentioned his mother had survived his birth, but beyond that information, she knew absolutely nothing about his relationship with his mother, assuming he even had memories of her given how young he was when he was handed over to Frieza.

“The Queen?” She finally asked shyly.

The Prince nodded in assent once again, his eyes never leaving the pendant as he soothingly traced small circles in Bulma’s silky shoulders with his large hands.

“It passed down from generation to generation of Saiyan Queens for more than three hundred years…” He replied, the sadness in his voice becoming increasingly evident now.

One of her hands reached down to the jewel, holding it between her thumb and index fingers as she looked at it with a concerned, almost guilt-ridden frown of her own.

“I’m sorry, Vegeta… I…. I didn’t know… If I’d known how… How valuable it was, I wouldn’t have worn it. I guess I should…”

Vegeta immediately shook his head, circling her delicate face between his hands and staring right into her surprised eyes.

“You should wear it, woman,” he suggested with firm conviction. “It suits you…”

Bulma’s throat tightened, and she nodded numbly in assent, already feeling her body react to her mate’s kind touch. A big part of her wanted nothing more than to ask more about his mother and his heritage, but his very evident discomfort made her try to lighten up the mood a little.

“So…” She said, her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer as she lifted her chin proudly. “Does that mean I could have been Queen?” She asked with a playful smile on her lips.

Vegeta raised an eyebrow at that, tilting his head slightly to the side as he gave her an answer with an enigmatic expression on his face.

“I believe you would have been the most powerful Queen my people would have ever seen…” He responded in a serious tone, his dark eyes fixated on hers.

Bulma’s eyes and smile widened at his rare reply. It was uncommon for the Prince to praise or compliment her too often, almost always choosing to mock her instead in order to bring her ego down a notch.

“Aw, Vegeta… Really?” She giggled enthusiastically. “You really think…?”

“Of course, I do,” he interjected before she could finish her sentence. “Your annoying banter and incessant screeching would undoubtedly have brought entire nations down on their knees,” he concluded, his mouth now adorned with one of his trademarked malicious smirks.

_Ah, yes…_

_There was that Saiyan asshole again. The one she’d fallen for, much to her shame…_

She stared at him in shock for a few moments. Her wild eyes and furious pout, seething in anger, told Vegeta he’d really crossed the line this time. His far too sensitive ears got ready for the loud, angry tirade he knew was coming.

_And yet, it never did._

Quite on the contrary, the minute Bulma’s lips formed a smirk that matched his own, the warrior knew he was in trouble.

“Is that so?” She asked in a husky, seductive voice, resting her forehead against his and softly nipping the tip of his sharp, regal nose, leaving him utterly shocked and confused.

_What was happening?_

_Why wasn’t his woman fighting back?_

He swallowed heavily, nodding again, completely incapable of forming a cohesive sentence. And things got even worse when Bulma’s body shifted her position, going from being innocently sited on one of his thighs to turning on his embrace, lifting one of her legs and placing its knee on the rock stair he was sitting on, and the other knee on the other side, effectively trapping his body beneath hers.   

_Oh…_

_The woman was fighting back, just not in the way he’d first anticipated…_

“Because…” She whispered again, the tip of her rosy tongue licking his lower lip. “If memory serves me right, you seemed to have no problem with my incessant screeching last night…”

Vegeta snickered with difficulty, trying to gather whatever remains of self-control he had left in him, realizing his battle for dominance may very well have been lost already.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, _little human_ ,” he mustered, settling his greedy hands on her milky hips. “The only noise I recall is the desperate begging I forced out of your mouth last night…”

Bulma’s dirty smile never left her lips as she carefully removed a lock of damp hair from Vegeta’s forehead. Her hands then travelled to her mate’s muscly chest, her nails tracing idle circles across the warm, wet skin, making him shiver when her naughty little fingers grazed his nipples, hardening them immediately. 

“Mhmm…” She moaned impishly, her blue eyes feasting on the perfection of the manly body sitting underneath her. “Can you blame me? I mean…” She continued, pinching one of those hardened nipples and eliciting a gasp from him in return. “How could a woman be teased by a man like you without begging for more? Mhmm?”

Vegeta kept quiet. His head felt hot and dizzy, and he had to fight his increasingly heavy eye lids from closing and giving in completely to her touch. He knew this was payback for the incredibly submissive way in which she’d allowed herself to be taken the prior night. His woman was just as proud and stubborn as he was, and yet, she never seemed to have a problem with him taking control of their coupling, if anything, she actually appeared to enjoy it far too much. He’d never asked exactly why that was, but he’d always assumed it had something to do with how exceptionally powerful Bulma was in her home planet. Vegeta was no fool, and he knew that, despite the fact that his touch had an extremely arousing effect on his woman, there had to be something more to her surrender. He suspected that she also relished being able to give herself to him and let him take charge because in her daily life, she was the one who was forced to be in control, both in her home and her family business, at all times.

Of course, that wasn’t always the case, and occasionally she’d be the one forcing him to submit to her, and with astounding ease he might add. In fact, one of the main reasons why it had taken him so long to give in and allow himself to establish some kind of a relationship with this woman was that he’d always found it downright scary how easy it was for her to bend him to her will when it really suited her. During those rare but powerful times, his Saiyan pride had always laid forgotten in the end as his little female had her way with him.    

Bulma’s hands kept moving downwards, caressing the indentations of his perfectly chiseled abs and savoring victoriously both his very evident struggle to control his ragged breathing and the way his sculpted body trembled in desire against her soft form. Her journey reached its end when her long fingers rested innocently on his groin, and she couldn’t help but bite her moist lip in anticipation as she noticed his already half-hardened member getting ready just for her.

“Perhaps…” She muttered against his lips, her fingertips laying maddeningly still on his impatient skin. “Perhaps you should be the one begging for me now, _Prince Vegeta_ …”

An innocent peck on the lips made him grunt in exasperation, and his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously once more, his hands clutching her flesh even harder as he let his pride ultimately speak for him. 

“A Prince never begs, woman…”

“Oh?” Bulma asked in mocked surprise. “Really? Ummm…”

Her hands wrapped themselves around his now fully erect manhood, working his length up and down with one hand as she stimulated his bulbous tip with the index finger of the other, drawing tiny circles on it. It wasn’t long before she was rewarded with a deep groan from her mate, losing himself in her tantalizing touch. His head found the curve of her neck as he closed his eyes, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he could taste blood and panting loudly through his nose.

_The hard evidence of this titillating woman knowing his body like the palm of her hand felt both like a blessing and a curse..._

“I’d say you’re enjoying this, _my love_ …” She whispered suggestively in his ear, her sweet, teasing voice feeling like an echo in the distance in sharp contrast with the bold, almost rough way in which she was milking his hardness with both hands now. “I bet I can make you beg for more…”

Vegeta still refused to give in to her wishes, and his hands left her body in a pitiful act of rebellion, holding onto the jade green rock of the stairs, getting lost in the pleasure only his mate could provide.

_He was getting close, so dangerously close to the edge…_

“Mhmm… I see you’re still stubborn as always…” She sighed in amusing disappointment. “That’s too bad…” Before the warrior’s dazed mind could grasp what devious plan she had in store for him, Bulma simply ceased her ministrations, abruptly taking her hands off him.

His heavy eyes opened instantly, his entire being feeling as if a jug of cold water had just been poured all over him. He raised his head, and the devilish sparkle in his mate’s gaze made him feel both infuriated and strangely proud of her clever, mischievous ways. It was control that she wanted, the very thing he hated to relinquish the most, and yet, his shuddering body now seemed to have very different plans, and one only aim in mind: _release_.

Vegeta’s hands travelled back to her body on their own volition, one of them digging his fingers into her waist as the other desperately grabbed her fragile wrist, pleading for her to finish what she’d started.

“Bulma…” He murmured miserably into her skin with his brow pressed against her shoulder, making her smile victoriously.

_Yes…_

_Now she had him literally in the palm of her hand…_

She knew this was the closest to begging her proud mate would get, and seeing him in this state had turned her on far more than she was willing to admit, so she stroked his length lightly a few times before raising her hips, positioning herself on top of him and taking him in slowly, engulfing him within her tight warmth.

Her back arched, pressing her chest against his as Vegeta hissed at the unbelievable sensation, feeling her pelvis rock leisurely, his own pleasure completely at her mercy as she set up her pace. His rough hands soon found her breasts, fondling them gently as his tongue worked his magic on her erect nipples.

“Oh, yes…” Bulma moaned, arching her back even further and offering herself to him. Her nails raked across his hot shoulders and neck, sinking on the back of his head. She mewled as he kept sucking on her tits, increasing the speed of her movements as she rode his thick, hard cock, savoring the thrill of knowing she was the one doing this to him, getting him in this state of pure, desperate need.

_Only she possessed such power…_

Her hands clutched a handful of his wild hair and she pulled hard on it, almost aggressively, forcing his head back as she made love to him, her hips working him over repeatedly. She knew how close he was to his climax and, wanting nothing more than to join him, she brazenly grabbed one of his hands, guiding him to her center.

“Touch me…” She commanded, panting heavily against his lips in a breathless whisper that was both a demand and a plea.

Her lover didn’t resist, and Vegeta’s fingertips caressed her as only he knew how, feeling her tight little pussy already beginning to squeeze him, sending him into a frenzy. His free hand grabbed her hip, ready to take control once again, but Bulma wouldn’t let him, quickly forcing him to let go of it and intertwining her fingers with his as she increased her speed, the soft flesh of her bottom slapping the top of his thick thighs violently as she fucked him relentlessly.

“Fuck! Yes!” She shrieked, ardently crushing her lips against his. Vegeta’s eager tongue slid inside of her, muffling her excited sounds, feeling completely powerless underneath his sensuous blue siren. He kept teasing her clit with increased fervor until he finally felt her orgasm wash over her, violently wracking her small body with tremors as her breath shook against his parted mouth, tempting his body to join hers, his own release following soon…

Bulma’s trembling hand found the nape of his neck and her head fell tiredly, resting her burning cheek against his. Vegeta closed his eyes and held her tight, focusing on the unusual sensation of her drained yet content ki flowing, not only through her body but, somehow, across his own too. He couldn’t explain why this was, all he knew was that he’d never felt as close to her as in that instant, and even though such vulnerability should frighten him, he simply chose to embrace it, relishing the comfort the woman in his arms brought him.

“Now we’re even,” Bulma whispered cheekily in his ear.

 _‘Not for long…’_ He thought evilly, already anticipating how he’d seek revenge later, but allowing her to enjoy her well-deserved victory as he pulled her even closer and silently basked in the warmth of her presence.

They remained this way for a few more minutes, until their heated, agitated bodies finally cooled down and Vegeta carried her out of the thermal waters, drying her off with a touch of his ki before placing her gently on one of the wooden benches and helping her get dressed. Once they were fully clothed and ready to go, Bulma looked around with a questioning look in her eye.

“Which way?”

“To where we came from?” Vegeta asked, pointing to their left. “This way.”

He extended one of his arms out to her, ready to hold her and fly her to the spot where they’d previously installed their house, but Bulma merely clasped his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, just as she’d previously done during their physical moment of intimacy.

“Good, let’s go…” She simply replied, already walking in the direction her mate had just pointed at.

Vegeta walked a few steps behind her, following her close in slight bewilderment, until he finally dared to ask.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking,” Bulma answered casually, not even bothering to look at him.

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Flying is faster.”

“Yes, I know.”

He blinked in confusion a few times, his analytical mind, always focused on efficiency and utility, not having a clue as to why his woman was choosing the most ineffective way to return to their place.

“So?”

“So, what?”

“Flying is faster,” he repeated, staring at their interweaved hands absolutely dumbfounded.

Bulma turned around, slowing down her pace a little and offering him a dazzling smile.

“But this is nice, isn’t it?”

Vegeta looked at her beaming expression, luxuriating in those radiant pink cheeks, heavenly blue eyes and the way the cold morning air played games with her long, feathery hair. He couldn’t, for the life of him, see what was so _‘nice’_ about making the choice of walking instead of flying, especially holding hands this way.

_Was it perhaps some human custom he’d never partaken in?_

He didn’t know, all he knew was that he couldn’t recall having seen Bulma so damn happy in a very, _very_ long time, so he decided to spoil her once again, walking wordlessly by her side.

Gradually, he found himself taking pleasure in their quiet stroll, in the serene sounds of nature surrounding them and, above all, in the calm balminess of Bulma’s touch and the tender way in which she kept holding his hand, never letting go of him.

“Today was fun,” she declared gleefully, finally breaking the silence. “Can we do this again tomorrow?”

Vegeta nodded in assent without hesitation, giving her small hand a gentle squeeze and secretly loving the way her hopeful gaze lightened up by his response. It suddenly astounded him to learn how little was required to make his woman happy. 

_If this was all it took to put that look on that exquisite face, he’d take her for a swim every single day…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know...
> 
> It was a very fluffy chapter, but I wanted to give you some sweetness before things get very intense again in the next chapter.
> 
> I hope you liked it!


	25. A Heavy Burden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bulma and Vegeta experience a very dark night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, here's my next chapter.
> 
> I apologize for taking so long with this update, but I really struggled with this one. It's a bit darker than usual and it sort of got me out of my comfort zone. I have no idea if I've been able to develop the idea I had in mind, but I tried my best.
> 
> To those of you who wrote those encouraging reviews in my last chapter, THANK YOU, it means a lot to me to know some of you are still enjoying this story.
> 
> I hope you like the chapter!

_He would rage and he would cry,_

_my lost soldier._

_And I said to him,_

_"There are two of you, don't you see?_

_One that kills, and one that loves."_

_And he said to me,_

_"I don't know whether I am an animal or a god."_

_But you are both._

[Roxanne; “Apocalypse Now Redux”]

 

 

The first merciless blow hit Bulma right on her ribs, the unmistakable sound of the cracked bone dangerously warning her of what was still to come.

The second blow came accompanied by the familiar, syrupy laughter of her tormentor as his cold, pink tail swung at the speed of light, hitting the back of her neck cruelly, like a ruthless whip, making her stagger and come dangerously close to losing her balance. Only her pride, the only thing she had left at this point, stopped her now precariously standing body from its predictable fall.

It would be the third blow, a swift and brutal punch in the stomach, the one which would finally bring her down on her knees.

Bulma fell pitifully to the ground, her entire body shivering in pain and unadulterated fear as her eyes filled with proud, unshed tears. The white tiles of the cold, polished floors soon became a blurry vision as the woman struggled with the inescapable need to cry and release all the anger and frustration running through her veins. Her arms trembled, barely supporting her light weight as she remained immobile on all fours like a beaten dog, waiting dreadfully for her Master to finish the job and end her miserable life once and for all.

A vicious kick in the stomach made her insides burst, and a heavy rush of dark, thick blood filled her mouth miserably, quickly followed by a wave of nausea, making her immediately vomit the warm, metallic liquid in her body’s pathetic attempt to get rid of the sickening, disturbing taste.        

“Why?” She finally managed to blurt out, her furious, hazy eyes still fixated on the blood-soaked floors, panting and heaving profusely as she battled a second, stomach-turning wave of sickness.

The monster’s disturbingly treacly voice filled the room once again with his characteristically malicious laughter.

“Why not?” He replied nonchalantly, with more than evident amusement.

One of his frozen, lizard-like hands reached out to the kneeling woman, holding her chin in a harsh manner and aggressively obligating her to look into his dark, empty eyes, void of any emotion other than the evil smile dancing within them as the freak’s claws sank further into her skin, breaking it violently and making thin rivulets of crimson run down her jaw.

“Tsk, tsk…” Her Master muttered in a mocking tone, his revoltingly sour breath reaching her far too sensitive nostrils, forcing an involuntary sneer out of her bloodied mouth. “Nobody touches my Second Lieutenant and gets away with it…” The monster declared in a low, ominous tone.

“He fucking deserved it,” the woman replied defiantly, her ragged breath betraying her clearly contrived confidence. “That green asshole isn’t strong enough to be anyone’s Lieutenant!”

In the blink of an eye, the slimy pink tail wrapped itself around her fragile neck, lifting her entire body off the ground with frightening ease. Her hands immediately clutched the cold limb in a pathetic, hopeless attempt to make it let go of her, instead, the grotesque tail squeezed her even tighter, and a sharp, unbearable pain run through her spine, forcing a pitiful, desperate scream out of her exhausted lungs.

“You little fucker…” The almighty creature scoffed disdainfully. “You don’t get to decide who deserves what around here, you little shit!”   

As he pronounced these last words, the wicked bastard hurled Bulma’s body across the room and against a massive glass window, smashing it as she fell to the ground. The woman lay dejectedly on the glass-covered tiles for what felt like an eternity, her entire body wracked with shameful tremors of ache and revulsion. However, the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the deep humiliation that now surrounded her as she heard the mocking roaring of her Master’s crew, laughing loudly at the disgraceful sight of the bleeding, broken figure now covered in broken glass.   

The distinctive sound of the lizard’s steps approaching her stopped Bulma from slipping into unconsciousness and, swallowing whatever remnants of pride she had left in her wounded body, she crawled cowardly across the floor, hissing in excruciating pain as the fragments of shattered glass penetrated the flesh of her small hands, until she finally reached her shameful destination under the bed, where she curled up in a little ball, dreading the inescapable beating that she knew was still awaiting her.

“Come here, _Little Monkey_ …” The sickly-sweet voice called sardonically. “Let’s play a little game…”

Bulma’s dishonorable tears fell freely as she remained hidden under the small cot and, covering her bloodied face with shaky hands, she couldn’t help but invoke the memory of the one person she held responsible for her horrifying predicament.

_‘Father…’_

“ _Little Monkey_ …” The torturing voice sang malevolently, getting closer and closer, making her sob loudly, choking in her own tears and drowning in cold sweat.

_‘Why?’_

“Oh, it’s just a little game. You’ll see, my dear…”

_‘Why? Father… Please! Why? Why did you abandon…?’_

She felt her Master’s terrifying presence by her side, and his deceitfully scrawny legs stood by the bed, maliciously prolonging the inevitable and reveling in the scent of pure fright emanating from the petrified woman.

Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, willing the fear to go away, praying, begging the Gods of her People to save her, or at the very least, to make her inexorable death come as quick and painless as possible. Her strength paled compared to that of the pink and purple lizard, and her hopes and dreams of ever defeating him in a glorious, honorable battle were now nothing but a delusional fantasy, still so far, _far away_...

The unnervingly sugary voice sent a cold shiver down her spine, and she brought her wounded knees even closer to her chest, pressing them against it as if that could somehow shield her from the outside world and the mortifying laughter of the crowd inundating the gloomy room.

“There you are, _Little One_!” He exclaimed happily, sinking one knee on the elegant floors and sticking his horned head under the bed, like a sickly disturbed father playing a twisted game of hide and seek with his foster child.  

Bulma’s eyes widened in terror, and she pressed her back further against the wall at the perturbing sight of the monster’s face getting closer and closer.

_‘Father…’_

“Is it true, _Little Monkey_?”

_‘Please… Please, make it stop…’_

“Is it true that the best way to play with filthy _Little Monkeys_ is to catch them by the tail?”

The woman’s natural instinct of preservation kicked in, realizing with apprehension that she’d forgotten to wrap her tail around her waist, just like Nappa had taught her in her early days during their extensive hours of basic training. But, before she had the chance to correct her hazardous mistake, the lizard’s gloppy claws caught it in a tight clasp, squeezing the furry appendix as hard as he could as his evil laughter pervaded the room once again.

“See?” He asked wickedly, savoring the atrocious sounds of the woman’s bones cracking. “We’re having fun! Aren’t we, _Little Monkey_?”

An ear-piercing cry of pure agony erupted from Bulma’s mouth, and she jumped in shock, sitting abruptly on the large bed, clutching the white sheets protectively against her naked chest and shaking her head anxiously.

“No! Noooooo!!!”

Vegeta awoke at once, sitting by her side and staring at her through confused, drowsy eyes.

“Bulma?” His warm, raspy voice asked in utter bewilderment.

Bulma’s shivering body kept moving frantically, as if she were still in what the Prince had guessed was some sort of terrifying bad dream. He knew how rarely his mate had dreams, let alone bad ones, and Vegeta noticed dreadfully that this was no ordinary nightmare.

He reached out to her, placing his large hands on her frail shoulders, gently but firmly, in an effort to ground her somehow and bring her back to reality, calling her name softly once again.

“Bulma…” 

Much to his surprise, Bulma still appeared to be very much possessed by her dark hallucinations, and his heart sank as she recoiled from his touch in fright, and her tiny, clammy hands urgently tried to remove his in a futile attempt to escape from his grasp.  

“No! Please!” She yelled anxiously, never opening her eyes, as if the monster still haunting her was the one physically restraining her. “Please, don’t! Stop it!”

She kept begging miserably, and her little fists hysterically punched Vegeta’s torso over and over again, until the Saiyan trapped them between his own powerful hands, knowing that, if she kept going like this, she’d end up truly hurting herself. He clutched her minute fists and kept them pressed tightly against his chest as he newly tried to awaken her from her cloudy, delusional state.   

“Bulma!” He whispered harshly. “It’s me! It’s just me!”

This time, his low but stern voice seemed to do the trick, and Bulma gradually ceased her frenetic struggles, slowing down her movements until she eventually stopped and gathered the courage to open her eyes. She raised her head slowly, her terrified eyes meeting her lover’s oddly concerned ones and, little by little, the painfully frightened expression on her beautiful face morphed into the vast relief that only Vegeta’s presence could provide.       

“He was breaking my tail!” She sobbed woefully as tears pooled in her sad, blue eyes and rolled down her unusually pale cheeks. “He… He was breaking my tail…”

Vegeta blinked a few times in confusion, still trying to fully wake up from his previously deep slumber. One of his hands kept holding both of hers in his firm grasp, and the other one found the nape of her slender neck, now covered by a fine sheen of cold sweat, and buried itself within her silky turquoise waves, delicately bringing her closer to him until he was able to press his forehead against hers.

“Bulma…” Vegeta whispered again, making the conscious effort to speak cautiously and trying as hard as he could to soothe and reassure her. “You don’t have a tail…”

Bulma’s ragged breath ghosted over his lips, and she kept staring at him as wide eyed as a spooked child. At last, she nodded slowly, finally accepting that her fears were completely unfounded, and she sighed convulsively, throwing her arms around her mate’s neck and bursting into hot tears of pure relief. Vegeta reciprocated immediately, pulling her even closer into a powerful embrace as he fell prey to a fierce protective instinct, wanting nothing more than to comfort her, forever shielding her from the outside world.

Her heartbeat was still rabbiting nervously against his own and, whilst the warrior waited patiently for his mate to calm down, his now completely awaken mind found itself overrun by an unshakable suspicion. The moisture of Bulma’s tears flooding on the crook of his neck stabbed his heart torturously as he run his rugged hands across the alabaster skin of her back and he took in her alluring scent, a mixture of her own unique sweetness and the intoxicating traces of their prior lovemaking, which still lingered heavily around her, clinging to her stubbornly like a second skin.

They remained this way for countless minutes, quietly clinging to each other for dear life as Vegeta’s assuaging caresses made Bulma’s fears slowly evaporate, vanishing into thin air until her breathing was calm and steady. It would never cease to amaze him how his blood-soaked hands were even capable of accomplishing such a feat but, at the same time, the sensation of his little mate’s body reacting so easily to his touch, filled him with an inexplicable sense of pride.

“Thank you…” Bulma finally muttered, her petite body now so relaxed in his arms that it felt as if they’d become one single being. “Thank you…” She repeated, planting soft kisses all over his tanned skin, running an excruciatingly tender path from his neck, up to his jaw, until her lips found his and they merged into an affectionate kiss.

While Vegeta secretly attempted to piece things together, each and every one of Bulma’s words of gratitude started to feel like a kick in the gut, especially once he began to comprehend what had really transpired between the two of them that night. The subtle tension of his body language wasn’t lost on his woman, who reluctantly broke their kiss and looked at him with curious eyes. She gifted him with a sweet, but still somewhat pained smile, and she deduced that her mate was interested in the events which had taken place within the dark corners of her chilling nightmare.

“He…” Bulma stuttered shyly, her long fingers clutching the back of his robust neck, like an infant anxiously holding onto a safety blanket. “He broke my tail…”

Vegeta’s hands abandoned her body, making his mate immediately shiver at the loss of his comforting warmth. He grabbed the bedsheets, lifting them and covering up her bare figure as well as he could before he reached for her face, cupping it gently between his large hands as he wiped off the few stray tears still spoiling her stunning blue eyes.  

“Who did it, Bulma?” He enquired in a low, husky voice.

“He was…” She stopped momentarily, taking a deep, shaky breath before she could continue her glum recollection. “He was not human… He was small but very, _very_ strong, Vegeta…”

“What…? What did he look like?”

“He was… He was pink and p-purple…”

The Prince swallowed heavily, feeling his body tense up even more but still trying to remain cool for Bulma’s sake. Even though her whole demeanor had changed, a haunted look still plagued her face, as if she were still unable to completely shake off the horrifying experience her mind had suffered through.

“He was strong…” She repeated. “He… He hit me… He hit me several times and then… He…”

Bulma squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head restlessly, willing the ghosts to go away.

“He’s not real, Bulma…” Vegeta susurrated softly in her ear, his thumbs still caressing her cold cheeks, quietly appeasing her agitated nerves. “You can tell me, woman. Have no fear…”

Her eyes opened reticently once more, finding a solid, resolute confidence present in his dark gaze, which instantly filled her with newfound self-assurance. She placed her hands atop of his as she recalled her disturbing dreams.

“He hit me and then… Then I fell on the floor…” There was a brief pause and Bulma bit her lip anxiously before she continued. “He wrapped his tail around my neck… And… He threw me, Vegeta… My body hit some kind of glass window and then… Th-then there was glass and blood everywhere… _Everywhere!_ And… And…”

She sobbed loudly, startling her mate as she threw herself again in his arms, where Vegeta held her possessively at once. He abhorred the complete impotence he experienced witnessing his woman in such a state of vulnerability, and he figured that the only thing he could do was being there for her, reassuring her with his presence in any way he could.    

“There were people in the room… One of them, I’m pretty sure I recognized him…” Bulma’s anguished voice whispered against his bronzed cheek.

“Who was he?” He whispered back, as if they were both sharing the most intimate of secrets.

“He was green… That… That alien you killed on Namek…”

“Zarbon,” Vegeta simply replied, unable to hide the dismay in his hoarse voice.

Bulma nodded in assent, pressing her smooth cheek snugly against his.

“There were others but… I… I can’t remember and… Th-then he came to me… And I panicked, and I… I crawled and hid under the bed…” Her small, feminine nails scratched the marred skin of his back lightly while she narrated her tale of horror, as if she could feel the physical torture of the broken glass slicing the tender flesh of her hands all over again.

“Bulma…”

“He… He came to me…” She carried on, interrupting whatever thoughts he’d been about to share with her. “There was la-laughter in the room… Those people… Gods!” Bulma whispered ferociously in an indignant mixture of shame and fury. “They were laughing at me...”

Vegeta’s grip on her tightened almost unconsciously, and Bulma nervously nuzzled the skin of his neck, still incapable of looking her lover in the eye.

“He was cruel… And… And vicious… His voice was…”

“And then what happened?” Vegeta interjected, reluctant to let the woman describe her tormentor in too much detail. After all, he already knew exactly who the bastard was, and he knew oh, too well just how the damn story ended.

“Uh? Oh… Uh… He… He kept talking to me… Telling me he wanted to play some kind of game with me…” She exhaled in desolation, her voice barely above a whisper by now. “And then he… He caught me… He g-grabbed my tail and I… I could feel the bones cracking and he…”

The Prince’s body shivered in revulsion at the memory of his crushed tail. It used to be one of his old Master’s preferred forms of torture and punishment; after all, it was almost a matter of public knowledge how sensitive a Saiyan’s tail could be, and the hideous creature had exploited such weakness as often as he’d the chance to do so in the past.

“He called me _Little_ …”

“… _Monkey_ ,” Vegeta replied, finishing her sentence in a knowing voice and making Bulma look at him at once in sheer shock.

“Vegeta… How…?”

Vegeta let go of her, clenching and unclenching his fists a few times before running his hands nervously across his damp face and hair. He felt sick, he felt _literally physically ill_ at the thought of his woman having, not only witnessed such a shameful and disgraceful event from his past, but at the horrendous image of Bulma experiencing the physical pain and psychological humiliation he’d been forced to go through in those days. His Saiyan telepathic abilities had always tended to magnify his dreams and nightmares, and even though he had no clue as to how much of such capabilities could be transferred to a mere earthling like Bulma, the state of shock and trauma his woman had displayed that night filled him with deep guilt and disgust.   

He got of the bed, reaching for the blue pajama bottoms laying forgotten on the floor and quickly putting them on under Bulma’s watchful and astonished eye. Just a few hours ago, they’d been making love passionately, and now he was simply walking away from her without so much as an explanation, and the worst part was that she didn’t even know the reason why.    

The moment Vegeta exited their small bedroom, Bulma jumped out of bed as well, running briskly behind him, unwilling to let him leave without a fight.

“Vegeta! Wait! Please!”

“Leave me alone, woman…” He muttered sheepishly, not even bothering to look at her; but his mate turned out to be a lot faster than he’d anticipated and before he knew it, she’d grabbed him stubbornly by the arm.

“Vegeta! Please! You have to tell me what’s going on!” Bulma begged anxiously, the sorrow in her voice forcing him to turn around and look at her, only to find her standing in the middle of the living room, completely naked and shaking like a leaf. She looked so small and fragile, and yet she kept clinging to him, still wanting to keep him by her side at any cost.  

The warrior looked around, finding her flimsy nightgown abandoned on the couch, and he grabbed it, silently offering it to her as he kept looking to the ground resignedly, avoiding her gaze in shame. When she wouldn’t take it after a few moments, he reluctantly set his eyes on her once more, feeling his heart crushed by the fresh tears pooling anew in her expressive eyes.

“Bulma…”

“Vegeta…” She pleaded in a hushed whisper, her fingertips clasping his skin, refusing to release him. “Please…”

“Bulma…” He sighed tiredly. “Come here, put something on,” he commanded gently, with as much patience as he could muster given his present circumstances.

Bulma nodded timidly, raising her slender arms with slight hesitation. Vegeta reacted immediately, dressing her with great care and silently marveling at the sensation of the smooth silk covering his little mate’s beautiful body as the seductive garment clung to perfection to her every curve. His hands lingered on her hips a little longer than he intended, finding himself incapable of letting go of her, and the earthling quickly took advantage of this brief moment of vulnerability.

“Vegeta…” She asked once again, caressing his cheeks with devastating affection. “Please… Tell me what’s going on…”

He took a deep breath and, with the profound conviction that Bulma wouldn’t let the matter rest until she discovered the truth, he finally decided to clarify the baffling situation.

“We’re bonded, Bulma.”

Bulma remained silent, making the colossal effort to assimilate this new information Vegeta was revealing to her. Her exhaustion, both physical and mental was taking its toll, and by now, she could barely think straight anymore, but she was determined to conquer her fatigue if that meant she’d eventually decipher the mystery only his mate seemed to be privy of.  

“You mean… You mean we share a bond?”

Vegeta just assented wordlessly. In his mind, an inner struggle was taking place: the incessant, pitiless battle between his ego and his newly admitted love for this woman. It was a conflict which had become more and more recurrent to him, and he still didn’t know what to make of it, all he knew was that the warmth of his lover’s touch yielded more power over him than he’d ever wish to admit. The rational part of him, made up purely by his own instinct of self-preservation, wanted to leave, to immediately abandon this situation, and yet, a small, pathetic part of him needed to know how Bulma would react to the idea of being bonded for life to a vicious, heinous killer such as himself.

“Is it like…? Like a mental bond?” Bulma inquired in a low undertone with more than evident interest.

The Saiyan nodded in affirmation once again, simulating a calm indifference but increasingly shocked by how calm his mate was becoming, as if she were more curious than frightened by this new revelation.

Bulma blinked a few times, finally solving the odd mental puzzle which had been plaguing her dizzy mind.

“So, that’s what it is…” She concluded, still slightly perturbed by the night’s events but, also, almost relieved to finally being able to comprehend Vegeta’s bizarre behavior. “So, we… We shared a dream, right? Is that what this is all about? That’s not so bad… Is it? Is that why you wanted to leave?”

Bulma smiled sweetly at him, those impossibly soft hands still cupping his face, caressing him with more tenderness than anyone in his cold, miserable life had ever bestowed upon him.

It unnerved him.

_It unnerved him profoundly…_

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go.

She shouldn’t be standing confidently in front of him; she was supposed to cry, perhaps yell at him. Right now, she should be frantically packing up her things, running for the hills and going back to Earth, where she could raise their child on her own, and do an extraordinarily good job without him ever being in the picture; after all, she’d done it already, and under much, _much_ more difficult circumstances than the ones she’d face whenever she’d choose to return to her now peaceful home planet.

She didn’t need _this_.

She didn’t need _him._

“You are insane…” He finally stated, removing her pale hands away from his face and seizing her wrists in a severe grip, not strong enough to hurt her, but definitely fierce enough to make a statement. Right away, Bulma’s eyes widened in disbelief, perplexed as to why the Prince was acting in such manner.

“Vegeta… What…?” 

“You are absolutely, fucking crazy, woman!” He was yelling now, lightly shaking her body, as if he were literally trying to shake some sense into her. “Is this what you want, uh? Being bonded to a murderer?!”

“You are _not_ a murderer, Vegeta!” Bulma shouted right back at him. Despite her obvious concern, the woman’s confidence regarding her mate’s true nature remained immutable, and Vegeta couldn’t help but secretly admire her inner strength and outstanding courage.

“How...? How can you even say that, when you _know_ I killed some bastard just days ago?!”

“You said he deserved it, Vegeta!”

“And?!”

“And I believe you!” She replied self-assuredly, with immaculate honesty in her brave eyes.

Vegeta’s grip on her loosened, and Bulma instantly clasped his hands, delicately intertwining her fingers with his and pressing her slender body against him, laying a chaste kiss on his heated lips.

“Vegeta… It’s okay… It was just a nightmare…” She mumbled against his mouth. “It’s all right…”

Vegeta looked into his woman’s eyes, suddenly unsure on how to proceed. His mate’s presence, both steady and compassionate, washed over him, gradually weakening his resolve to open up to her and reveal the truth, and yet, he knew he had to, he owed her at least that much.

“Bulma,” He whispered, giving her frail hands a short squeeze before ultimately willing his body to release her, setting her free once and for all. He turned around, giving her one last, troubled glance above his shoulder before pronouncing his lugubrious final words.

“What you saw wasn’t a nightmare.”

He walked towards the door with decisiveness, sending Bulma into a panicked frenzy.

_‘If the dream wasn’t a nightmare, then what was it?’_

Before she had the time to fully grasp the meaning behind his enigmatic statement, she run stubbornly behind him once more still unwilling to admit defeat.

“Gods, Vegeta! Please! Just don’t…! Shit!”

A loud thud made Vegeta stop dead in his tracks and, by the time he set his eyes on his woman again, he found her sitting on the floor’s soft carpet, clutching her foot miserably as tears of pain welled up in her eyes.

“Bulma...”

At once, her mate was by her side, kneeling beside her and eyeing her foot with a concerned frown on his worn-down face. He cautiously removed her small hands, gently encouraging her to allow him to take a look, and she let him without question. After all, if there was one thing the warrior knew something about, it was recognizing an injury when he saw it.

“Where does it hurt?” Vegeta asked softly, never meeting her gaze as he held her delicate foot between warm, calloused hands.

“It’s… It’s just my toe…” Bulma answered quietly, both astonished and deeply moved by his unexpected display of tenderness. At moments like this, her heart reminded her that he did care about her on some level, and she could only hope it would be enough to bring him back to her.

“Can you move it?” He enquired again, running those large hands gingerly across her skin.

She wiggled her little toes, with slight pain but no great difficulty and, after the Saiyan concluded that nothing was broken, he held her in his arms, carrying her to the couch and placing her on the plush cushions with utmost care, wrapping a cozy blanket around her trembling figure before disappearing into the kitchen, coming back in a short time with a small ice pack and placing it carefully over her sore toes.

The couple shared an awkward silence as they both remained sited on the sofa, with Vegeta pressing the cold item against her foot as Bulma kept staring at him thoughtfully. Even though he was still avoiding looking her directly in the eye, she could sense a more than obvious look of guilt and shame in his tired features.

_It was absolutely heartbreaking…_

She wanted to say something, _anything_ , to make him feel better, but before she had the chance to come up with something, her Prince disturbed the stillness in the room.

“This is what I do, Bulma…” He declared somberly, his eyes still eluding hers. “I hurt people.”

“Vegeta…” She replied in anguish, shaking her head uneasily. “I… I just tripped… It’s not your…”

Vegeta raised his sight, filled with so much ache and sorrow Bulma could barely stand looking at him, and he held her chin with gentle but firm conviction, whispering gruffly against her lips.

“I will destroy you, woman.”

And with that, he exited the small house, closing the door behind him and leaving a very disturbed, anxious Bulma weeping unconsolably in the dark, clutching the blanket her lover had protectively wrapped around her just minutes earlier and wondering just what in Heaven’s name had happened in that mournful night. 

 

*********************************************

 

The crisp air of the night enveloped Vegeta as he sat on top of the roof of the little Capsule Corp. dwelling which had become his home during the past seven days. Stargazing had been one of his preferred forms of contemplation since his childhood days, and yet, he’d barely had the chance to do it ever since he’d arrived in Virggo with his woman. Of course, his mate had been the reason behind this sudden variation in his almost nightly routine. In fact, he had to admit that Bulma had been the driving force behind many of the most important changes taking place in his life ever since their first encounter, now more than three years ago. 

Tonight was supposed to be their last night on the pleasure planet before they returned to Planet Z365, where they’d join Krillin and Yamcha and he’d finally have to make the choice of whether he’d return to her home planet with her, or whether he’d send her back on her own. At least, that was his best guess; the truth of the matter was that Bulma had never given him an ultimatum of any sort, and she’d been extremely relaxed and carefree during the entire time they’d spent in each other’s company.

_It’d been, without question, the best week of his life…_

Just as promised, he’d taken Bulma for a swim every morning, where they’d inevitably end up indulging in a heated lovemaking session before they’d go back home and savor a large, comforting home-cooked breakfast. His worries on how to keep his little mate occupied had vanished early on, after quickly realizing that, true to her word, the only thing Bulma had really wanted from him was some alone time together, just the two of them.

They spent the rest of their days going for long walks, a custom his woman had described as _“romantic”_ , and even though he didn’t fully comprehend what was so _romantic_ about it, the Prince had grown to enjoy this particular habit of hers, especially since most of the planet was unpopulated and no one could witness these rare displays of physical affection he’d always abhorred so much.

Vegeta also took her to Virggo’s few ancient villages. Despite having been abandoned and uninhabited for years now, they were still replete of long-forgotten items which had awaken Bulma’s insatiable scientific curiosity, and she was now in possession of three capsules filled to the brim with a wide variety of objects, from intricate but wrecked machines, to silly little trinkets. Most of the technology was quite primitive compared to Bulma’s staggering inventions, but the earthling still insisted in taking as much as she could with her, arguing that _“you can always learn something new”_ and _“you never know where new, great ideas could come from”_.

At times, Vegeta actually knew what those cast aside items were, and he’d explain their purpose as his wide-eyed woman listened to him in fascination. He had to admit, much to his shame, that pleasing Bulma was truly starting to fill him with a bizarre sense of pride and satisfaction, and he took equal pride in his mate’s incredibly high intellect. He’d always known her to be an intelligent woman, but he’d recently discovered that her knowledge went beyond the purely mechanical field, and she was equally knowledgeable in biology and, more specifically, in botany, as evidenced by the large case replete of seeds and plant samples she’d also encapsulated with the obvious intention of furthering her studies of Virggo’s flora as soon as she returned to Earth.

Bulma had talked quite a bit about her plans for the future, about certain changes and improvements his father was planning on implementing in Capsule Corporation and on how he’d gradually be delegating more and more responsibilities on her in order to get her ready to, one day, take over the company completely.

Vegeta took a deep breath, rubbing his face and exhaling wearily in frustration…

Bulma’s cleverness and ambition, combined with her astounding newfound maturity, had made the woman even more desirable to him if that was even possible. When they’d initiated their illicit relationship, it’d been her flawless beauty and fierce temper which had first attracted him to her, combined with her scientific skills and that shameless boldness of hers. Never had he imagined anything beyond a physical affair, always reminding himself that she was _nothing_ , nothing more than a pleasurable distraction and a warm, eager body to pass the time, helping him cope with his nightmarish life, spent between sleepless nights, ghastly training sessions and the single-minded goal of his ascension, with the resulting defeat of his archrival.

_But now things were different…_

Bulma, the girlie, puny earthling who’d started off as a mere guilty pleasure, had become, in countless ways, the sole focus of his existence. It was because of her that he’d briefly considered staying on Earth after his shameful defeat in the aftermath of the Cell Games and, ironically, she’d been the reason why he’d finally chosen to embark on a barely planned quest for universal domination, a goal he no longer desired to begin with, simply because he’d concluded that she and the boy would be better off without an utter failure like him in their lives.

Vegeta had already known, on some level, that some kind of bond had been established between them, and he’d concluded that the mere physical distance would suffice in order to break or, at least, to seriously severe it, hoping that allowing some time to pass by would be enough to do the rest, destroying whatever remained of their unlikely union.

As usual, especially with anything having to do with his relationship with Bulma, he couldn’t have been more wrong.

He hadn’t counted on how much comfort and relief his little mate had brought into his life, not until he’d parted from her home planet, on his way into an almost suicidal quest for power, pervaded by sleepless nights, a rare lack of appetite and an almost non-existent will to train and fight, the very same one which had always been dictated by his visceral, warlike nature.

Ever since his woman had come back into his life, things had felt _right_ , almost as if they were meant to be together and, even though such sappy, sentimental emotions filled him with disgust and shame, Vegeta had come to believe that maybe, _just maybe_ , this fragile creature and he were made for one another, destined to remain by each other’s side. Even the dreadful Saiyan bond, the one he’d every now and then heard Nappa and Raditz discuss in the past, but which he’d never experienced himself, had seemed less threatening than he’d anticipated, but once again, tonight’s horrific events had proven how greatly mistaken he’d been.

Every time he closed his eyes, the mental image of Bulma’s petrified face invaded his mind, and he quivered in wrath and repulsion at being the one responsible for the haunted look on her immaculate visage and the way she trembled in sheer panic in his arms, whispering words of gratitude, thanking him for comforting her when he’d been, after all, the one unintentionally sharing his curse with her.    

Vegeta had come to terms with his obscure demons a long time ago. He’d learnt to accept that the memory of his old Master’s atrocious deeds would haunt and torment him for life, and he’d somehow managed to make peace with that condemn. But he could not, under any circumstance, get used to the idea of inviting Bulma, everlastingly, inside his grisly mind. A creature as good and pure as his woman didn’t deserve to live a lifetime permanently subjected to such a miserable existence.

The subtle variations of the colors in the sky broke Vegeta’s sullen musings, announcing that dawn was coming and reminding him that, whether he liked it or not, it was time to get inside the house and face his woman. His sensitive hearing hadn’t perceived any noise coming from their home in a while, and he prayed that Bulma would be asleep by now, at least until he’d be able to find a way to discuss this new state of affairs with her.

He descended from the roof and entered the place, now silent as a tomb. He immediately set his eyes on his mate, who’d fallen asleep at some point on the sofa and, after removing the now lukewarm ice pack from her foot, and checking, once more, that there seemed to be no sign of injury, he held her in his arms with utmost care, trying desperately not to awaken her. She’d remained swaddled in the cozy blanket still wrapped around her, and a sudden, poignant emotion overcame him when she instinctively rubbed her cheek against his bare chest, seeking comfort in him even in her state of unconsciousness.

By the time they made it to the bedroom, Bulma had already woken up from her troubled sleep, much to his dismay.

“Vegeta?” She mumbled sleepily, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling his neck dotingly.

“Go back to sleep, Bulma…” He ordered in a hushed whisper, staggered as to why his woman looked so calm and secure in his embrace after the events which had taken place just hours earlier.

She inhaled his musky skin and pulled him even closer, and the Saiyan instantly fell into a perplexed state of bewilderment when she smiled lazily against his flesh, her former fears seemingly forgotten by now.

“It’s okay…” Bulma susurrated, tenderly kissing the crook of his neck and raising her head, looking at him with eyes both tired but filled with a love he felt wholly undeserving of. “I’ve missed you…”

The Prince stood in the middle of the room and, seeing that his woman obstinately refused to let go of him, he sat on the bed, cradling her small body against him like a child, as if she were the most delicate thing he’d ever handled in his entire life.

Bulma looked at him adoringly, all plump lips and large, shimmery eyes, with that eternal smile adorning that pretty face of hers. Her prior worries had vanished, replaced instead with a strange kindness he could only identify as compassion.

_She felt sorry for him._

She should have been feeling sorry for herself and yet, here she was, offering him unfaltering sympathy and kindheartedness instead.

He didn’t understand it.

He didn’t understand _her_.

“Why?” Vegeta simply asked, making Bulma tilt her head slightly to the side, squinting at him with curiosity as she kept caressing his flushed cheeks with great care.

“Why, what?”

He held her gaze imperturbably, attempting desperately to conceal his confusion behind his practiced neutral façade, but his little mate could read him like a book by now. Such vulnerability terrified him, but he also believed that, perhaps, Bulma’s deep knowledge of his disturbed psyche would make it easier for her to help him comprehend this new, uncharted territory they were both stepping into.

“Vegeta…” She repeated, never ceasing her doting ministrations as her caresses kept soothing him, dispelling his ghosts with her calming touch. “Why, what?”

“Back…” He took a deep breath, tucking an unruly strand of turquoise hair behind her ear and secretly relishing the faint blush suddenly embellishing her cheeks. “Back in the ship… When you…”

Bulma planted a soft kiss on his jaw, intuitively sensing his nervousness. Whatever it was her man wished to discuss, it had to do with emotions, and she knew her grouchy Saiyan always had trouble with expressing himself verbally and dealing with any type of sentiment.

“Yeah?” 

“When you… When you discussed your youth…”

“When I told you those stories about my past?”

Vegeta simply replied with a sharp nod, suddenly avoiding looking her directly in the eye. A part of him couldn’t believe he was actually about to encourage this discussion but, then again, nothing had ever confused and intrigued the Prince as much as his woman did.

“What about it?” Bulma replied in a tone filled with interest. It was unlike her man to initiate a conversation unless he absolutely had to, particularly by asking questions of a personal nature.

“Your wish… You said…”

“Yes?”

Vegeta’s fatigued eyes returned to her, finally gathering the courage to ask the question which had been bursting in his lips ever since she’d shared her old tales with him, back in their space ship, at the beginning of their journey together.

“You said you eventually got your wish…”

Bulma’s breath hitched inside her chest as Vegeta’s embarrassingly intimate question caught her by surprise; after all, her mate had clearly avoided discussing the matter with her in the past, the night she’d bared her soul to him by revealing, not only her childhood memories, but the fact that she truly considered him to be the right man for her, the one she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Back then, the Saiyan had changed the topic of conversation immediately, humiliating and crushing her poor little heart in the process, but now he looked as if he were ready to have her explain her true feelings for him, and Bulma wasn’t about to miss such a rare opportunity. Their week together was almost over and, so far, Vegeta hadn’t hinted as to whether he’d made the choice to return to Earth with her or not. She was running out of time, and she had nothing to lose and everything in the world to gain by disclosing her feelings tonight.

“I did,” Bulma answered with as much coolness and confidence in her voice as she could.

She wanted, no, _needed_ him to understand just how deep her feelings for him run, and how much he’d always underestimated his positive qualities. For a man whose ego seemed to possess the size of a Galaxy, Bulma was painfully aware of how little Vegeta valued anything other than his physical strength, and the outcome of the battle against Cell had done absolutely nothing to improve his self-image. Bulma knew her mate had considered the result of the brutal fight a shameful defeat, and now that he’d discovered that the prized and elusive Super Saiyan transformation hadn’t turned out to be enough to grant him invincibility, the Prince’s self-worth had reached a new low, as evidenced by the wounded, disoriented look lingering in his raven eyes as he enquired again.

“Why?”

“Why did I make that wish?”

“No, woman…” He continued, keeping his strong, muscular arms still firmly enveloped around her fragile body and squeezing her even tighter, silently pleading for a reply. “Why? Why do you think you finally got your wish?”  

Her hands found his chest, lavishing it with tender caresses as she tried to appease his doubts.

“Because I did,” she answered, looking him directly in the eye with brutal honesty. “Although, looking back…” Bulma paused briefly, as if trying to find the right choice of words. “I guess… I guess I was a bit mistaken about my wish back then, you know?”

The Prince frowned slightly, feeling even more confused than before. Whatever it was his woman was talking about, she was only intensifying his disconcertment.

“In what way?” He asked again.

“Well… Back then…” She continued, sensing her mate’s more than evident puzzlement. “Back then my wish was trying to find the perfect boyfriend. The perfect man…”

A bittersweet smile crossed Bulma’s lips as Vegeta remained silent, waiting expectantly for her to reach her conclusion.

“I guess it took me a while to realize that… That the perfect man doesn’t really exist.”

She shifted in his arms, rebelling against his possessively tight embrace, and letting the cozy blanket shielding her from the cool air in the room fall to the ground. Her thin arms encircled his neck once more, and she pulled him closer, laying a chaste, lingering kiss on his lips and sitting atop him, straddling him as he wrestled with his emotions.

“Now I know there’s no such thing as a perfect man, simply because there’s no such thing as a perfect woman either.”

Vegeta’s hands found her hips, and he kept her firmly pressed against him, unable to ignore how appetizing his woman looked, and _felt_ , clad only in that silky negligee. Focusing in her words was increasingly becoming harder and harder with those long fingers toying lazily with his wild hair while she revealed her most intimate secrets to him.

“Although I am pretty close myself, don’t you think?” She asked in a playful tone, winking cheekily at him in hopes of lightening up the mood. “I am Bulma Briefs, after all…”

The Saiyan huffed softly, shaking his head lightly as he struggled to restrain the smirk that threatened his lips.

“Yes…” He responded, clutching her waist and meshing her small figure with his. “You _are_ Bulma Briefs. The most infuriating, stubborn woman I have ever met in all my…”

Before he had the chance to keep whining, Bulma silenced him with another kiss, secretly elated when he immediately reciprocated as he kept holding her greedily against him. When they broke the kiss, she smiled proudly, nibbling her lower lip.

“We _both_ know you like me that way, _Prince Vegeta_ , don’t pretend…” She pouted coquettishly, eliciting a deep grunt from her bewildered mate. Even though a confused, questioning look still swam within his mysterious eyes, his desire for her was still clearly present, silently encouraging her to carry on.

“Now I know…” She continued in a whisper. “Now I know that my wish wasn’t really finding the perfect man, but finding a man who was perfect for me.” Bulma finally concluded, waiting patiently for her words sink in.

Vegeta frowned. He’d hoped that discussing matters with his woman would bring some light and assist him into getting a greater understanding of what went on inside that pretty little head of hers, but this new explanation made even less sense to him than the last one did.

_The perfect man for her..._

_Not the perfect man, but the perfect man for this particular woman…_

“You don’t agree?” The earthling asked almost shyly, apparently unsurprised by his confusion. She already knew by now that it would take a lot more for her man to grasp anything having to do with romantic relationships.

The Prince’s only reaction was shaking his head slowly, quietly allowing Bulma to further her explanation.

“Well… I think we’re pretty good together, don’t you think?” She asked hopefully in the most cheerful tone she could muster.

“Why?” He asked again, absolutely dumbfounded as to what it was that the blasted woman was talking about. Vegeta knew himself to be a strong warrior but, beyond that, there wasn’t a single one of his features that qualified him, in his opinion, to be someone else’s mate, especially not Bulma’s, who happened to be the most loving, emotional female he’d ever encountered.

“Mmm… Let me think…” Bulma asked playfully, tapping her lush mouth with her index finger in mockery, as if trying really hard to come up with an answer to Vegeta’s question.

“You’re determined,” she finally said. “Probably the most determined person I’ve ever known, even more than Son-Kun, you know?”

Bulma looked at her mate, hoping to finally get a reaction to her words, but he just stayed infuriatingly silent. Even though Vegeta remained an enigma in many ways, it seemed to her that his handsome face was a mixture of incredulity and hopefulness, as if deep down he truly wanted to believe that her judgement of him was the right one.

She kissed his cheek tenderly, gazing at him with fondness.

“I always admired you, you know? Even when you worried me to death with your crazy training. I always knew someday you’d make it…” Bulma whispered with nostalgia, the image of his proud stance when he first told her of his ascension flashing through her mind. “I was so happy for you…”

He sighed tiredly, and his rough fingers dug a little deeper into her hips when his mate got even closer and kissed his temple, making him unconsciously close his eyes, giving in to her with astounding ease. Bulma’s chest tightened at the sight of discomfiture and vulnerability written all over his face, making her protective instincts kick in as she held him lovingly.

“You’re intelligent…” Bulma whispered, kissing his brow. “And proud...” She kissed the tip of his regal nose. “I used to think that wasn’t your best quality, but now I know it’s such an important part of you...”

“Woman…” He muttered, but her reflections interrupted him once again.

“You have honor,” she said proudly. “You are the most honorable man I know. And you _are_ strong, obviously. You’re the strongest person I…”

“Not stronger than an eleven-year-old boy,” Vegeta interjected bitterly, with clearly unhidden resentment in his eyes.

“You mean the eleven-year-old boy who won a battle with your help?”      

His eyes widened imperceptibly, stunned by Bulma’s unexpectedly high opinion of him. He’d never openly discussed his disgraceful defeat with her, but he already knew her friends must have disclosed certain details to her, as evidenced by her words during their first encounter at Frieza’s palace. She’d mentioned Mirai Trunks, and how happy the young man had been after discovering that his father had lost his mind at the sight of his lifeless body. Apparently, those goddamned gossipy earthlings had told her about how he gave Kakarot’s brat a helping hand at the last minute, just when the boy had needed it the most.    

Obviously, that didn’t matter to Vegeta.

To a Saiyan Prince, _anything_ other than a glorious victory, automatically equaled defeat.

“That is of little consequence, Bulma. It was still the boy the one who won the…”

“ _With your help_ , Vegeta,” she interrupted, pronouncing her words at a slower pace so as to emphasize just how important the meaning of that statement was. “That’s the way we do things in our planet, you know? We help each other, we…”

“That is _not_ the Saiyan way, woman,” he spoke in a furious whisper.

_‘Shouldn’t his woman know him better by now?’_

“Oh, _trust me_ , I know,” Bulma replied, as if reading his thoughts. “But really, Vegeta… Is our way such a bad way? We work together as a team, being there for each other, just…” She paused briefly, wondering what his reaction to her next words would be. “Just like you and me…” She spoke coyly.

“I know you’re strong, Vegeta…” Bulma continued. “But if we… If we were to be together, I’d be there for you.”

“Bulma…” He disrupted, shaking his head with slight hesitation. “You don’t want to live in my head, woman. You don’t…”

“I’m not afraid, Vegeta,” she stated confidently.   

Vegeta gawked at his little mate, not quite knowing how to respond to that.

Her eyes shone with unfaltering braveness as the warm colors of the break of day brightened her girlish, charming features.

She wanted him.

_She wanted to be with him regardless of the blazing Hell that was his mind…_

“Bulma…”

“Vegeta, come with me…” She whispered ardently against his lips, enfolding his neck possessively and melding her small figure against him, annihilating his adamant resistance entirely. “Come back to me…”

The warrior heaved a little sigh, and his body instantly responded to her, melting under her fervent touch like some naïve, adolescent boy. Only _she_ could do this to him, undoing him, leaving him speechless and leading him to a point where he could no longer fight her with words, and actions were all he had.

One of his arms kept her firmly pressed against his body as the other one travelled to the nape of her neck. He tossed Bulma on the bed and, soon, their bodies were entangled, rolling over the cold bedsheets as their lips locked into a long, passionate kiss. He parted her legs, hungrily exploring her willing body, kissing and licking it without even taking the time to take off her silken, skintight negligee, and he grabbed her hands, pinning them above her head and intertwining his fingers with hers as he entered her slowly, _very slowly_ , making love to her.

Bulma shuddered, her body now feeling like clay underneath his touch, panting heavily against his mouth. “I love you…” She whimpered, her warm breath ghosting his ravenous lips, almost touching them. “I… I love… You… I love… Oh!”

She tilted her head back, burying it in the pillow as Vegeta’s powerful carnal instincts took over. His hips rocked languidly against her own, taking pride in being the only male in the Universe capable of making his mate feel this way and, for the first time, for the _very first time_ ever since this journey of chaos and insanity had begun, he realized he could truly see himself going back home to this woman.

This woman who’d gotten a glimpse of his poisonous demons tonight, leaning out into the dark, bottomless abyss that was his mind and, after experiencing the torture and humiliation he’d endured throughout his entire youth in her own flesh, she stood still and asked for more, begging for him to share this heavy burden with her.

This woman who’d left everything and everyone behind just to bring him back, offering him the opportunity to live a life of peace and serenity he knew he’d done absolutely nothing to deserve. 

This woman who was both strong and fragile, brave and tender, like burning iron wrapped in the finest silk, mewling and writhing underneath him as she whispered desperate words of love in his ear.

_This woman he couldn’t live without…_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sigh*
> 
> This was hard to write...
> 
> In the next chapter, Vegeta and Bulma will return to Planet Z365 and we'll find out what Krillin and Yamcha have been up to.
> 
> Will Vegeta finally make his choice?
> 
> Thanks a lot for reading!


	26. A Binding Promise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vegeta and Bulma land on Planet Z365...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Here's the new chapter!
> 
> I was actually working on the second chapter of my "Yellow Roses" story, but I had this one already half-written and I've chosen to finish it first and give you all a little update so you won't have to wait so long.
> 
> This was really, really hard to write, but I hope you like it...

Bulma stepped into the space ship’s main living area after having just gotten dressed hurriedly inside one of the small cabins. Within a matter of minutes, they’d finally approach Planet Z365 and make preparations for landing on its reddish, humid surface.

The initial idea had been for them to shower and get ready a lot sooner in order to face Krillin, Yamcha and Vegeta’s bizarre army of men but, as usual, things hadn’t gone according to plan. Her Prince getting a glimpse of her alluring naked body walking pass him towards their small bathroom was all it’d taken for him to grab her and have his way with her, once again, on their still unmade king-sized bed. By the time he’d had her laying completely spent beneath him, there was barely any time left for both lovers to prepare.

Vegeta was already standing by the central control console, adjusting the pair of white gloves of the new armor Bulma had built for him and offering her a subtle side-glance when she finally joined him and stood right beside him.

She instantly noticed a manifest change in his demeanor, as if he were mentally preparing himself to face the grotesque militia he himself had arranged. Even though by now Bulma had already gotten used to the Saiyan’s behavior, after having learnt, in the very early stages of their relationship, that Vegeta had a tendency to hide his weaknesses behind a carefully crafted mask of pride and indifference, she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of melancholy whenever she witnessed her mate’s mesmerizing metamorphosis. It was as if he were an actor playing a carefully constructed part he’d been tenaciously rehearsing throughout an entire lifetime.

In all truth, Bulma had grown to feel lucky, almost privileged, that her relationship with her mate had grown and evolved so much that she now had the absolute certainty of being the only person in the entire Universe fortunate enough to be able to experience, and share, Vegeta’s softer, almost vulnerable side.       

Back on Earth, Bulma had already caught subtle glimpses, here and there, of Vegeta lowering his guard slightly in the presence of her friends and family. Sure, he was never the warmest of companions, but she could tell that the Saiyan warrior had grown to, at least partially, accept that he was, whether he liked it or not, amongst comrades; a motley crew of fighters who always fought together as a team, standing by each other’s side at all times, to the point of sacrificing their own safety and, under extreme circumstances, their own lives, to protect the people they loved the most.

If her Prince eventually chose to turn his back on her and fully embrace this existence of dominance and insatiable quest for power, Bulma knew he’d never find the peace she truly believed he deserved.

After all, this wouldn’t be a simple case of building a façade of aloofness in a friendly, welcoming place like her home planet. If her man adopted the life of a supreme ruler, it certainly wouldn’t be an easy one. He’d spend the rest of his days living in a dangerous, hostile environment, constantly watching his back and without a single trustworthy being by his side, until some form of betrayal would take his life in the end. The mere mental image of Vegeta having to live under such terrible, inhuman circumstances, made Bulma shiver in complete horror.

And the physical danger wasn’t even her only concern regarding his mate’s choices, but his psychological well-being too. The heiress knew all too well the enormous amount of pressure that holding a position of power entailed. She’d observed it in her own father through the years, ever since she was a little girl who loved sneaking inside of Dr. Briefs’ central offices, back in West City. Of course, lab work had always been fun for both her dad and herself, but as years went by and she grew up, developing a greater awareness of her surroundings, she’d come to understand that there was another side of her father’s company that relied heavily on its founder’s leadership abilities and, now that Bulma was finally starting the process of being groomed into someday inheriting that position of power, she’d gotten a first taste of the heavy responsibilities attached to it, understanding that it wasn’t quite as easy as it appeared to be.

The saddest part was that his father had been fortunate enough to have a wife and two little daughters awaiting him back at home every day, showering him with love and affection and helping him disconnect, at least momentarily, from the weighty pressures of his daily life. However, if Vegeta chose to play the role of some evil Intergalactic Overlord, without her and Trunks by his side, he’d be utterly alone and, the very thought of it, made her eyes sting with unshed tears of grief and compassion.

During that last, almost surreal night they’d spent together on Planet Virggo, Bulma had finally been able to experience, in her own flesh, what inhabiting Vegeta’s mind was genuinely like. His was a psyche filled with filthy, terrifying demons and dark ghosts, haunting and tormenting him relentlessly, over and over again, without respite.

She recalled her tête-à-tête with Dende, back on The Lookout, when the young God had alluded to some mysterious conversations he’d maintained with older, more experienced Gods, who’d disclosed certain aspects of Vegeta’s past to him. The Namekian boy hadn’t shared any specific details of such revelations, but he’d confirmed that this new knowledge had made him look at the Saiyan Prince in a new light, and Bulma found it impossible to forget his admission to being surprised that the warrior hadn’t committed even worse sins that the ones he’d carried out already, given his obscure, dreadful background.

After Vegeta’s revelation, when he’d reluctantly acknowledged that a powerful Saiyan bond had developed between them and that her spine-chilling, disturbing dream had been more than just a figment of her imagination, Bulma had been able to comprehend, at last, just how seriously damaged her lover really was, and her heart had broken for him, wanting more than ever to bring him back home with her and their child, in hopes that a life of peace would someday help him heal and recover from his torturous history. If he didn’t, she knew Vegeta’s broken mind would snap and succumb to madness sooner or later, and the Gods only knew what kind of mayhem could ensue if such a terrifying scenario ever took place. But the choice was his and his alone to make and, so far, the only thing her mate had given away was a series of confusing, contradictory signals.

Towards the end of their more than satisfactory stay on the pleasure planet, Bulma’s hopes for a future together had been higher than ever but, ever since they’d embarked on their return trip to Planet Z365, the earthling had sadly detected a more than palpable change in her mate’s attitude.

Indeed, Vegeta had grown sulkier, and much less talkative than he’d been during their prior week together, making Bulma feel as if they’d taken another step backwards in their still too fragile relationship. The topic of their bond had never been brought up again, and the woman was secretly grateful that their joint nightmare had turned out to be an isolated episode so far. During the few hours Vegeta had left her on her own after that incident, she’d managed to put all the pieces together, realizing that the highly sinister scenery she’d been privy to was not an illusion but a memory, an actual recollection of Vegeta’s childhood experiences no less. This discovery had turned out to be a cathartic experience, offering her, ultimately, a greater understanding of the reasons behind her lover’s secretive personality and his mysteriously unexpected departure from Earth.

Thus, Bulma had reached the conclusion that there was a good chance that Vegeta had abandoned her, not because he didn’t love or at least want her in some capacity, but in order to protect her from the raging Hell that was his mind and, very possibly, to shield himself from the humiliation of another being having free, unlimited access to the most intimate and shameful events from his past life.         

As a result, their journey had been filled with long, uncomfortable silences and, ironically, endless marathon sessions of mind-blowing, passionate sex. It was as if her Prince was trying to compensate for his worrisome lack of words by expressing through his actions what he lacked the courage or the emotional skills to convey in any other manner, leaving Bulma utterly confused and equally depressed.

There was nothing in the world she loved more than making love to her Saiyan Prince, and no other man had ever made her feel as wanted and desired as he had. But, it wasn’t the act of sex itself what baffled and gave her reason for concern; it was the way in which Vegeta would take her, with a frenzied, needy desperation she’d never experienced before. He was both domineering and powerful and, yet, there was an almost childlike vulnerability in him that disconcerted her entirely, going far beyond the usual manner in which he’d usually kiss or hold her. After their never-ending hours of ardent lovemaking, followed by countless moments of unnervingly peaceful silence, they’d both lay exhaustedly in each other’s arms, where Vegeta would hold her as zealously as a lost kid clinging to a life preserver and no words were exchanged, other than the intense moans and feverish expressions of love and encouragement pronounced in the heat of their fervent coupling.

Overall, there was an immense sensation of hopelessness and disappointment lingering heavily in Bulma’s mind, an oppressive feeling inside her chest which gave her the impression that her lover was just as indecisive, if not more, as he’d been when they’d first been reunited. The almost obsessive way in which he’d ravished and possessed her for the past few days, far from bringing her peace of mind, had placed her in a constant pessimistic state, having the disconsolate suspicion that Vegeta’s true intentions were to have his fill of her, taking as much as he could from her body before he’d make the inexorable choice of letting her go, pushing her far away from his life in the end.       

“Bulma?” A curious, masculine voice asked, bringing her back from the glum train of thought running furiously through her mind.

She blinked a few times distractedly, finally setting her questioning eyes on her mate.

“Yeah?”

“I said, it looks like there’s a storm taking place in the area surrounding our destination,” Vegeta explained in a low, strangely patient voice, as he examined her with a quizzical frown on his face.

“Oh… Right…” Bulma mumbled shyly, glancing at the large screen in front of her once more. “It looks like a minor storm, right?”

The Saiyan merely grunted, nodding in agreement without even bothering to look at the monitor, his inquisitive eyes still stubbornly fixated on her, as if that could actually offer him a glimpse of what was really going on inside of his beautiful woman’s mind in that moment.

“Well… It shouldn’t be a problem,” Bulma concluded with renewed confidence. “I’ve even managed to land this ship on an iced surface, so a bit of rain is no big deal.”

The couple shared another one of those awkward silences that had, sadly, become far too common lately and, after Bulma reluctantly admitted to herself that they wouldn’t really be discussing crucial matters until they reached their last stop, she chose to focus on the task at hand and try to land their ship as smoothly and safely as possible.

“All right,” she declared decisively, taking a seat on the pilot’s chair with self-assurance. “It’s better if I take care of it, then…”

Without questioning her resolute attitude, Vegeta sat by her side on the co-pilot’s seat, fastening his safety belt as he studied his little mate’s every gesture with avid interest.

The subtle but unmistakable frown present on her flawless features, and the way she was nervously chewing on one of her thumbnails, revealed an apprehension that went far beyond the slight tension that preceded their usually trouble-free landings. Indeed, Bulma kept anxiously tapping the long fingers of one hand on the hard surface of the vehicle’s controls while now timidly biting on her lower lip, typing in the required commands on the computer with the other.

By now, the warrior was painfully aware of how wrong his behavior had been on their return trip, knowing that his woman had most likely expected to finally be able to exchange views on their relationship status with him before having to face her friends again.

_He was a coward._

An irresolute coward who’d much rather postpone indefinitely the most important decision he’d ever have to make rather than gathering the courage to even seriously consider Bulma’s offer of going back home with her and their infant son and discussing it in depth with her.

Now, mere minutes before reaching their destination and having to deal with the reality they’d so badly attempted to avoid during their brief but incredibly gratifying escapade, Vegeta knew the time had come for him to face their complex situation and make a choice, and the flagrant truth was that he still had no idea what that choice would be.

During that last lugubrious night on Virggo, as he’d made passionate love to his stunning woman, the temptation of choosing to listen to his heart over his brain, if only for once in his life, had been larger than ever. His heart, which had already been conquered slowly but implacably by Bulma’s kind spirit, was now desperate to believe that a life of peace and serenity could be a real possibility for him, especially now that his shockingly brave mate had learnt the truth about their Saiyan bond and, knowing the emotional danger and pain it entailed, she’d still begged him to come back to her.

Nonetheless, a dark corner of his mind, in truth more cowardly than rational, chose to rebel against the image of a life he felt he’d never been born to live and, every single time that Vegeta tried to picture what living on Earth would be like, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever turn out to be everything his woman expected of him. There was still an essential part of his being who craved loneliness above all things, even more than strength or power, not because he didn’t relish the incredibly fulfilling times he shared with Bulma, but because a lonely life was a simpler life, an existence with no moral or sentimental obligations where a warrior like him would only have to selfishly care about his needs and no one else’s.

Paradoxically, the closer he got to Bulma, the more he found himself willing to take the chance of giving up on the easiness of isolation if that meant not having to renounce to the only woman he’d ever truly cared about.

“Six minutes left,” Bulma announced, her pensive eyes never abandoning the screen. “What about the defensive shield?”

“I disconnected it already,” Vegeta simply replied.     

The woman turned around and looked at him in mild shock. “You can do that?”

“Of course,” he chuckled playfully, a knowing glint in his eye. “It’s _my planet_ , after all,” the warrior explained, holding a small, square-shaped device in one of his gloved hands, which Bulma guessed was some kind of miniature remote control, that he straightaway hid inside his armor.

“Fair enough,” the earthling concluded, raising her head proudly and taking in a deep breath, placing both hands firmly on the controls.

“Here we go…”

 

**************************************

 

The spot Vegeta had chosen to land on was situated quite close to the luxurious palace, but far enough from it so as not to cause any damage to the building in case of any unanticipated error in their calculations. The landing had gone quite smoothly, but the storm had turned out to be rainier than predicted, making the surface of the scarlet planet a muddy and unstable one.

Bulma unfastened her chair’s safety belt with unsteady hands, standing on slightly wobbly legs. A sudden sense of déjà vu engulfed her at the memory of the night they’d departed from the very same place they’d just arrived in, when Vegeta had run to her side the minute he’d noticed something was wrong with her. The only difference was that, back then, she’d suffered from the effects of a severely empty stomach, while now she only felt lightheaded from the rougher than expected landing. Either way, her mate was, once again, by her side, instantly placing his strong hands firmly on both sides of her waist, incapable of hiding his obvious concern.

“Are you alright?” He asked in a husky, intimate voice, feeling like a doting fool for caring so much about this small, much too frail woman.

“Yeah…” Bulma whispered bashfully, unable to stop a rush of crimson from reaching her flushed cheeks.

Vegeta smirked shrewdly, amused by how easily flustered his mate could get by his near presence. The potent aroma of their recent lovemaking still wafted heavily around both lovers and, even though he knew it wasn’t wise to face his men with her scent all over him, his most primitive, territorial side, enjoyed the idea of every single male on the planet indisputably knowing that she was his and _his_ alone.

“Wow…” Bulma said softly, her voice laced with amazement. “It’s pouring out there…”

The warrior looked through the same window Bulma was staring at, instantly discerning the huge storm taking place outside.

“Storms such as this one are pretty common here,” he explained collectedly, gingerly releasing her body with one final, questioning look. She assented timidly, quietly letting him know that she was now able to stand on her own, and Vegeta nodded back, finally letting go of her and walking towards the main window, inspecting the scene transpiring outside. Three of his men were already awaiting them, standing expectantly in the dark of night while carrying electrical lanterns, apparently unbothered by the heavy downpour of water falling on them.

“You will wait inside the ship until I call for you,” the Prince instructed in a low but steady voice as he re-adjusted his white gloves and straightened up his posture, sensing Bulma approaching him from behind.

His firm command swiftly caught the earthling’s attention. She was already expecting this change in his demeanor, especially now that he was about to become _Lord Vegeta_ for the sake of his outrageous army of renegades, but here, standing coyly by his side, one single glance told her something was seriously troubling him.

“Vegeta… What…?”

“Do not argue with me on this, Bulma,” he interjected authoritatively, never taking his watchful eyes off the three obscure figures standing somberly under the heavy waters.

Under different circumstances, Bulma’s fearless and intrepidly rebellious nature would try to complain and defy his inflexible orders but, now, she could tell Vegeta was dead serious. The fierce scowl creasing his stern features, and the almost electric aura surrounding his compact body, let her know something perturbing was about to take place. After all the time they’d spent together, the woman could easily recognize the physical tension in his body language whenever her Prince was scanning or analyzing his surroundings in search of some unknown, impending danger.

“All right…” She replied reservedly. “I’ll wait.”

With a sharp nod, Vegeta left her side, walking decidedly towards the large exit door while Bulma waited by the window, watching with great curiosity the scene happening outside. After typing in the numeric codes, the gate opened, and the warrior stood patiently in a proud, confident stance, looking every inch the Saiyan Prince that he truly was and making Bulma momentarily forget about her nervousness as she admired his perfection, feeling almost giddy with excitement. For all his faults, there was something about her man that still drove her absolutely mad with desire, attracting her to him like a feathery butterfly to a bright, torrid candle.

Vegeta descended the metallic ramp at a calm, self-assured pace, inwardly pleased to see his men bowing reverently already, patiently waiting for their Master to reach the spot they were standing at. By the time Vegeta joined his soldiers, he was half-covered in mud and completely soaked to the bone, but this did not diminish in any way the immense amount of respect and regard his warriors seemed to profess him.

“Soldiers,” he greeted in a neutral but commanding tone, standing cross-armed right in front of them.

The three men replied almost at once. “My Lord…”

“You may stand now,” Vegeta simply ordered, making the men equally obey in unison.

“It’s good to have you back, My Lord,” Dodonne replied respectfully. “You have been missed…”   

The Prince tilted his head to the side slightly, squinting imperceptibly with interest.

Something was _wrong_ , he could _feel_ it…

“Was I?” He asked sharply. “May I ask why?”

The three soldiers exchanged nervous, almost fearful furtive glances, as if they were trying to decide which one of them would break whatever news they had to announce to their terrifying Master. Dodonne, the pink alien, was distinctively the jumpiest out of the three, followed by one of those purplish fish-faced warriors whose names Vegeta could almost never recall. Only Kishoo, the tallest one, seemed to still be able to maintain his composure somehow, and proof of that was the fact that he was the one finally brave enough to break the tense, unnerving silence floating in the air.

“There… There was an incident, My Lord…” He explained, his voiced oddly confident but still sheathed in fear.

“What kind?”

“It…” Kishoo released a shaky breath, swallowing audibly before disclosing his confession to the Saiyan Prince. “It had to do with those… Those men you left to our care…”

“You mean the _guests_ I left to _your_ care?” Vegeta corrected harshly. “What about them?”  

Kishoo peeked at the other two soldiers once again before stuttering. “Th-They… Well…”

“Nevermind,” the Saiyan cut him off, dangerously close to losing his scarce patience already. “Whatever it is, I’m sure they will be more than capable of telling me themselves. Bring them to me,” he ordered gravely.

“M-My Lord… I-I think…” Dodonne retorted, now clearly frightened by his Master’s immediate request.

“I said, bring them to _me_ ,” Vegeta demanded once more, his low, chilling voice instantly throwing his men into a frenzied fright.     

After exchanging another round of terrified looks, Dodonne reluctantly chose to be the one to fulfill his Lord’s wishes and, after newly bowing nervously, he turned around, walking anxiously towards one of the sides of the cold, marbled palace. Vegeta raised an eyebrow undetectably at that, knowing far too well that it was the spot where the building’s dungeons were located, and he wondered in dread what had possibly gone wrong for the two weaklings to end up locked up in such a filthy, disgusting place.

The high-strung tension lingering heavily in the atmosphere reached a high-fevered peak as minutes went by, perilously intensified by Vegeta’s excruciating awareness of Bulma witnessing the entire scene from their ship, and his worst fears materialized when Dodonne came back accompanied by one prisoner instead of two.

Vegeta’s face remained immobile, but his inner fury kept growing as the realization of what had truly transpired on his planet while he’d been away finally hit him.

“Where is the other one?” He half-asked half-commanded to the now openly terrified trio of alien soldiers.

“M-My Lord… You see… H-He… Th-They…”

“He’s dead,” the earthling spoke in a soft, extremely fatigued voice.

The Prince snarled in pure disgust, both at the meaning behind the human’s words and the appalling state he was in; he was completely covered in dirt, not just the mud from the almost monsoonal rains, but actual filth, as if he hadn’t been allowed to shower or bathe for days. A quick scrutiny told him he was still quite healthy, despite the minor wounds and scrapes covering his body, highly visible through his tattered clothes. There’d been a fight, that much he knew, and the outcome had, unsurprisingly, not been favorable for Bulma’s comrades, after all. The man’s voice was muffled by his own enervation, and his entire form trembled, barely able to stand on his own. He looked crushed, his shoulders slightly hunched as he kept staring miserably at the ground while the abundant waters kept pouring over his defeated figure.

_It truly was a deplorable spectacle…_

“All of you! Step aside!” Vegeta bellowed furiously, his enraged tone immediately forcing the three men to anxiously take a few steps back as their Master approached their mysterious _prisoner_.

At once, the Saiyan grabbed the handcuffs restraining the earthling’s wrists which, unlike regular cuffs, were designed to subdue and minimize his ki. Of course, such an invention had its limitations, and it would prove itself to be useless with someone with a strength like Vegeta’s but, on someone with a minor ki level such as the human standing beside him, they’d turn him virtually defenseless.

“What happened?” The Prince heatedly asked the earthling, directly and without contemplations. “Who did this?”   

“Ve-Vegeta… I… I don’t know…” The weaker man stammered meekly, unafraid of the Saiyan’s rage but utterly confused and overwhelmed by the situation. “It… It was one man… Th-There was an argument… I… I just… They were drunk…” The human covered his face with his still chained hands in a pathetic attempt at hiding his face as he broke into loud, choked sobs. “He… He’s dead… He’s just… _Dead_ …”

“No…” A feminine voice abruptly whispered in horror, stealing the attention of every single male present.

Unbeknownst to Vegeta, Bulma had run to join them the minute she’d seen one of those nasty aliens bringing only one of her friends back with him, and she stood in the rain, her slender arms wrapped protectively around herself, shivering and shaking her head hysterically, unwilling to admit that one of her best friends was now gone forevermore.

“N-No… No… No…” She kept mumbling under her mate’s aghast eye.

Vegeta could tell she was in a state of complete and absolute shock, and very, _very_ few times had he ever seen his woman in such condition. She was now clutching the shorter human’s gi, begging, _praying_ desperately that this was nothing more than another petrifying nightmare, like the one she’d suffered back in Virggo.

“K-Krillin… Where is he?” Bulma asked in a hushed, desperate tone. “Where’s Yamcha? Where is he? _P-Please_ …”

As it turned out, the Prince wasn’t the only one totally dumbfounded by Bulma’s erratic behavior, and not quite knowing what to say, Krillin held her hands tightly in a poor attempt to ground her somehow.

“Bulma… I’m… I’m s-sorry… I’m so sorry…” He whispered unhappily in her ear. “He… He’s gone… I tried to help him but…”

“No! Nooooo!” Bulma yelled in agony, falling to her knees and bringing the drained, bald man down with her. He raised his arms, trying to hug and comfort her the best way he could even though he was still pathetically subdued.

“Bulma…” Krillin muttered, sadly knowing already how futile his words would be, given how much Yamcha still meant to her. “Please… You need to calm down… I… I just… Gods! I’m sorry, Bulma… I’m so s…”

A loud thunder of fury and frustration suddenly boomed in the air, and the Saiyan Prince exploded in pure rage standing fiercely, surrounded by a cloud of blazing, golden flames. He set his turbulent teal eyes on the three stupefied soldiers, who were now openly trembling in sheer panic.

“WHO DID THIS?!” He roared ferociously, barely able to stop himself from murdering the three bastards in cold blood right in front of his woman, whose inconsolable tears were, ironically, the main reason behind his beastly wrath.

“Vegeta…” Krillin spoke wearily under his breath, still holding his fragile friend and clumsily petting her damp hair in a vain effort to soothe her. “I don’t know… I… He was…”  

“The insurgent has already been _terminated_ , My Lord,” Kishoo interjected, finally gathering the courage to inform his superior of the obscure event’s outcome.

“Is that so?” Vegeta asked the earthling for confirmation, not even bothering to look at the taller warrior speaking.

The monk nodded in agreement, but something in the fatigued man’s eyes and behavior told him there were hidden, unspoken details yet to be revealed. Finding it wiser to discuss matters privately with the earthling, Vegeta chose to pretend that Kishoo’s explanation was satisfactory enough, and he turned around, facing his men and crossing his arms authoritatively.

“Fair enough. Where are the rest of my men?” he enquired in a rough, ominous tone.

“Th-They’re all at the barracks, M-My Lord…” Dodonne informed, trusting that his Master was now pleased with the other soldier’s clarification, and ignoring just how mistaken he truly was.

“Any soldiers inside the palace?”

“N-No, Sir…”

“Good. I want all men inside their barracks until further notice. I will review the troops first thing in the morning. You are all dismissed.”

“My Lord,” the three warriors replied in unison, bowing one final time before proceeding to take flight, not before being interrupted once again by Vegeta.

“And, Dodonne?” He spoke firmly, looking the pink alien in the eye with an almost neutral, disconcerting calmness, instantly sending shivers down the soldier’s spine.

“Y-Yes, My Lord?”

“If any of the men gets anywhere near _my_ palace, or tries to abandon _my_ planet during the night, I will find and personally murder _every single one of them_.” He pronounced his sinister threat slowly, _very_ slowly, savoring every looming word and viciously enjoying the look of absolute panic on the man’s face.

_Oh, yes…_

The pink, fat bastard had had something to do with the weakling’s murder, and he couldn’t wait until morning arrived in order to find out exactly what his role in the assassination had been so he could rip his filthy heart out and offer it to his woman on a silver platter.

“O-Of course, My Lord…”

Dodonne remained completely immobile in panicked expectation, awaiting any further orders from his Master, but Vegeta dismissed him with a simple grunt and a sharp nod, allowing the alien to finally leave his presence so he could enjoy his last night alive in this world. The Prince sneered, almost pitying the poor fucker incapable of recognizing just how close he was to the Gates of Hell already.

The Saiyan stood still, waiting stoically until the three soldiers were out of view. Once he made sure that the men were gone and at a safe distance, he powered down significantly, wanting nothing more right now than to comfort his tearfully desolate mate. 

“Bulma…” he called, in a voice notably kinder than the one he employed when addressing his subordinates, but lacking the characteristic warmth reserved for their private times together, when it was just the two of them. After all, Krillin was still witnessing the unreal scene, and he had no intention of losing the weaker man’s respect by looking like some sentimental, devoted fool in front of him.

Bulma’s sobs never ceased, but she eventually relented, moving away from Krillin slowly, but clearly disoriented. Without the help of the artificial lights that Vegeta’s men had been carrying, she found herself helpless in the dark but, thankfully, her mate’s reassuring presence was at once by her side. His fingertips grazed her own, gently encouraging her to hold his hand, which she took without hesitation, and the Prince patiently coached her until she was finally able to stand unsteadily on her feet. Her petite, fragile body was still wrecked with tremors, looking as if her shaky legs were barely able to stand on their own.

Before she had the chance to open her mouth to speak, Vegeta held her with great care, carrying her in his arms as he immediately proceeded to walk on the way to the palace. Bulma hid her wet face in the curve of his neck, desperately clutching the collar of his shirt as she wept uncontrollably, painfully piercing the warrior’s blackened heart with every single shed tear.

“Follow me,” he instructed Krillin, who followed his orders straightaway, walking closely behind the couple. He was exhausted and malnourished, but relieved nonetheless, feeling safe at last, now that Vegeta had come back and, as the three of them strolled under the rain, he couldn’t help but marvel at the amount of affection Bulma and Vegeta were openly displaying right in front of him. Indeed, he knew some kind of a relationship had developed between his friend and the alien warrior, but he’d never seen them engage in a demonstration of physical intimacy such as the one taking place before his very eyes. The way the small woman kept hugging him, despite her obvious state of commotion, told him Bulma trusted her mate more than anyone, and such level of trust brought the human fighter some measure of confidence and hope that things would be alright in the end.

Once they reached their destination, the three of them entered the white palace, and Vegeta halted his steps right after crossing the luxurious building’s large gates.

“You see that large, red button over there?” The Prince asked, pointing towards it with a nod of his head and never letting go of his woman.

Krillin assented, quickly locating the object the Saiyan was referring to, situated right beside one of the massive doors. 

“Press it,” Vegeta commanded. “And hold it until the green light beside it switches on”.

The monk followed Vegeta’s instructions, pushing the red button with some difficulty due to his still handcuffed hands. Once the green light was on, he let go of it, turning around with a quizzical look in his eye. “Anything else?” He asked tiredly.

“Yes, the buttons to the left,” Vegeta signaled. “Press the orange one three times in a row, then the blue one just once, and then the orange one twice again”.

Krillin newly did as he was told, reassured when a look of satisfaction crossed the Prince’s stern face.

“Good, follow me,” the Saiyan concluded, resuming his pace and walking through the never-ending lavish corridors, now barely illuminated by a limitless number of long, white candles.

“This is my room,” he announced confidently, suddenly stopping in front of two tall, wooden doors. “Open the doors for me and wait outside.”

The man followed his final orders without protest, standing by the semi-open gates as Vegeta walked into the place with Bulma still firmly trapped in his strong embrace. The Prince stood in the middle of the room for a moment, briefly sharpening his senses and scanning the place for any foreign ki signal that could mean any danger for him and his mate; once he concluded that they were the only ones in the room, he approached his enormous, king-sized bed, attempting to lay his woman there but, predictably, Bulma’s agitated, panicky state wouldn’t allow it.

“Vegeta…” She whispered frantically, her nails digging deeper into the rock-solid muscles of his neck. “D-Don’t go… Don’t leave me here alone! Please…!”

The memory of their last night in Virggo came back to him in full force, and he cursed himself once again for ever letting things with Bulma get as far as they already had.

_This life wasn’t for her…_

He’d always known it, of course, but now, seeing her delicate, tiny figure kneeling on that cold bed as she shivered, covered in damp, muddy clothes, he understood just how out of place his Bulma really was. She deserved better than a life of danger surrounded by sordid criminals with no concept of right or wrong, and who were incapable of following an order as simple as not killing a couple of harmless, weaker creatures.

_She deserved better than him…_

“Bulma…” He whispered, the unexpected tenderness in his voice surprising even him as he held her face delicately with gloved hands. “I’m not going anywhere. I just wish to speak to your friend for a moment.”

Bulma gaped at him while tears kept rolling down her wet, pale cheeks and, in the back of her cloudy mind, all she could think of was what a mistake this trip had turned out to be, just as pointless, apparently, as her efforts to bring Vegeta back from the dead. Seeing him previously dealing with his army of treacherous soldiers, who’d slaughtered one of her best friends seemingly without a second thought, made her realize it was very possible that all the time and energy she’d devoted to trying to help and heal her mate had been in vain.

What Bulma didn’t know was that, in that precise instant, her lover felt so appalled and outraged by the sight of her heartbroken state that he was closer than ever to just throwing everything away and going back to Earth with his woman. But he couldn’t; not before he discovered exactly what had happened in his absence and he made the sick, defiant bastards responsible pay for their insubordination and, most of all, for all the damage they’d caused to his mate.        

“Okay…” She muttered in resignation, sighing blearily as she released him from her desperate, possessive touch and sited on the bed in acquiescence. “Do what you have to do…”

Vegeta gawked at her, astounded by how easily complacent she was all of a sudden, willing to let him leave her alone in spite of how clearly alarmed and upset she looked right now.

_As if she’d finally given up on him…_

He should be happy if that was the case, after all, he’d wanted her to leave since day one. He’d even recorded a message for her, trying to stop her from pursuing him, the moment he’d contacted her father and discovered her plans and, yet, the possibility that she’d actually surrender and abandon all hope regarding their relationship and the prospect of a future together, filled him with an astoundingly odd sense of despair.

But dwelling on his feelings was not something the warrior particularly enjoyed, especially not under their current circumstances, so he reached for a clean towel inside his private bathroom and wrapped it around his quivering mate, who’d remained sited on the bed, completely motionless. Her lifeless blue gaze evaded his when he explained, one final time, that he’d soon come back to her, her sad indifference feeling like the most brutal kick in the gut.

He exited the room and joined Krillin, who was now sitting dejectedly on one of the marbled benches situated in the extravagant, half-lit hallways.    

“Don’t,” Vegeta instructed, removing the crippled man's handcuffs and seeing his struggles as he pitifully attempted to get up. “That won’t be necessary,” the Saiyan carried on, his tone somewhat less grim than usual.

Krillin nodded in gratitude, quite stunned by the Prince’s change of attitude. Even though he was still standing gravely in front of him, in his usual imposing, cross-armed stance, there was a rare softness in him, probably brought up by Bulma’s nearby presence.

“Tell me what happened,” he demanded directly.

“Well…” The monk started, running his hands drowsily across his worn-out, grimy face. “The first… The first night was okay, you know? We… We were allowed to sleep inside the palace, and we were mostly left alone… And then…”

“Then?”

He sighed jadedly, the memory of the second night’s events racing through his head at a million miles per hour. There hadn’t been a single moment, ever since Yamcha’s brutal murder, that Krillin hadn’t wondered whether there was something else he could have said or done in order to prevent the atrocious crime from happening. His delirious mind had obsessively replayed the incident over and over again, drowning in a tormenting guilt that consumed him like burning wildfire.

“Then… On… On the second night, that alien, the pink one who brought me to you today…”

“Dodonne?” Vegeta questioned knowingly, on one side satisfied that his first instincts regarding the pink bastard’s involvement in the carnage had been right, but enraged at his own inability to foresee what could occur if he left the two earthlings abandoned to their own luck.

“Yeah…” He muttered in a whisper, almost absent-mindedly. “Anyway… He came to us on the second night, and he said we didn’t have to be alone all the time and that we should join the other guys for dinner and… I… I actually told Yamcha it wasn’t a good idea, but he didn’t want to offend them and so… We said yes and we joined them outside.”

“In the barracks…”

“In the barracks, yeah… At first, it was alright. I mean… Those guys are tough, nothing like people from our planet, but they were nice enough… We ate and we… We had a few drinks and then…”

“Yes?” Vegeta prodded, finding it increasingly harder not to lose his patience with the bald man while his woman was probably crying her eyes out right now, totally alone in the other room.

“Well, the guys seemed to be a bit curious about us, and they asked us where we came from and stuff like that, like… What were we doing here, that sort of thing… We didn’t mention anything about our home planet, because Bulma warned us before we landed, you know… To protect the planet, and especially because of Trunks…”

The Prince’s fingers dug harder into his forearms at the mere mention of his son’s name, loathing to even envision what would happen if any of those schmucks ever learnt of his child’s existence.

“You did the right thing,” he finally replied.

Krillin assented pensively. “I know. Bulma is one of my oldest friends, none of us would ever want anything bad to happen to Trunks…” He exhaled again, squeezing his eyes shut for an instant as he tried to compose himself so as to keep narrating the story to the clearly impatient Saiyan.

“One of the guys asked about Bulma… He asked if it was true that a woman had travelled with us. We… We didn’t really want to reveal much about her, you know… But then that pink one, before… Before we could come up with something to say he replied and he said… H-He…”

“You may speak freely,” Vegeta urged, sensing the man’s nervousness about reciting Dodonne’s words and having a pretty good idea of where this story was going already. “I know his words were _not_ your words.”

“Yeah, I know, I just…” Krillin faltered tensely, feeling extremely uncomfortable about having to repeat the disgusting alien’s words regarding the extraordinary woman who was almost like a sister to him. “He said… He said something like, _‘Oh, I’ve seen her. And she’s a hot piece of ass’_ …”   

At those words, Vegeta inhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose as he employed every single ounce of self-control in his power to stop himself from flying to the soldiers’ barracks and killing the fat prig, slowly and very, _very_ painfully, right fucking now.

_‘That filthy son of a bitch…’_

The image of that gang of idiots discussing his woman, much less his woman’s beauty, made him feel sick to his stomach, and Bulma’s words back in the ship, telling him how different those men were from him, and how little honor they possessed, kept running manically across his rabid mind, making more and more sense with every passing minute, much to his shame.

“And then? What else?”

“Th-Then… A few guys laughed, you know, the way men laugh when they’re talking about women… And then one of them said that… That you were selfish, because Frieza… He… He always…”

“Yes?”

Krillin swallowed noticeably, bracing himself for the Prince’s reaction since, by now, it was clear as water just how much Bulma actually meant to the ferocious warrior, way more than him or even Yamcha could have ever guessed or anticipated.

“He… He said Frieza always… _He always_ _shared his_ _whores_ …” He pronounced the last word in a hushed, shameful whisper, sounding evidently repulsed himself by the extremely offensive words directed towards the Prince’s woman.

Vegeta stayed completely silent, fearing that opening his mouth would make him lose whatever minuscule amount of composure he had left in him, and wordlessly waiting for the earthling to conclude his recollection as soon as possible.

“Th-That’s when Yamcha jumped and he… You know how he is…” There was a short pause as Krillin noticed his piercing mistake. “How he _was_ …” He released another shaky breath, holding back the tears brimming in his already swollen eyes. “He wasn’t the strongest but… But he cared so much about Bulma that he… He couldn’t take it. So he jumped at the guy, and after that, it’s just… Everything’s a blur… The guy threatened him to keep his mouth shut, but Yamcha kept demanding an apology, to take it back, but the other guy just laughed at him and then…”

The bald man shook his head to himself, too burnt-out and dazed to even make some sense of the madness that had immediately ensued.    

“He was fast… _Very fast_ , Vegeta…”

“How did he die?”

“H-He… He was…” The words burnt in his sore throat, aching to be released but too painful to even see the light. “He was decapitated… I…” He sobbed, covering his face once more as he fought the disturbing, deeply traumatic memories. “I… I saw his h-head at my feet…”

The Prince gave Krillin a minute to recover, knowing by now just how deeply sentimental these earthlings truly were, especially regarding the people they loved and cared about. Back in the day, he’d committed atrocious, despicable deeds, many of which he wasn’t even proud of anymore, but his warlike nature had always allowed him to cope with bloodshed and unbearable violence in a way he knew many weaker races couldn’t handle.

“Was the assassin terminated just like my man reported?”

Krillin nodded silently in acquiescence, wiping off his moist eyes with the back of his shaky hand while he tried to regain his composure.

“It… It was the tall one, the one wh-who told you about it…”

“Kishoo?”

“Yeah… He didn’t hesitate, he j-just did it… He called the other man a traitor and just k-killed him in the spot…”

The Prince pondered this new information, newly satisfied that his instincts regarding the taller warrior had been right from the start. Out of all his men, Kishoo had always been his favorite by far, and he’d even pictured him as the one who’d eventually become his right-hand man. Terminating the betraying bastard without a second thought sounded like something a loyal soldier like him would do.

“How did you end up locked up in the dungeon, then?”

“Ah… That… That was his idea too…” Krillin explained, gradually getting a hold of himself. “He protected me immediately. H-He stood in front of me when the others were arguing about what… About what to do with me next…”

A cold, terrifying tremor run through the earthling’s spine at the mere thought of what those monsters could have done to him if the young soldier hadn’t stepped in to protect him, knowing too well that he would have ended up sharing Yamcha’s abhorrent fate.

“H-He suggested that they locked me up as a prisoner until you came back… And then… Then he spoke to me in private, right after they took me to that cell, and told me it was for my own protection, that… That it was easier for him to keep an eye on me this way and… A-And… That the men would calm down if they saw me locked up instead of running around the planet on my own…”

 _‘Clever…’_ Vegeta thought to himself, impressed by the younger warrior’s perspicacity and quick-witted skills.

“I see…” The Prince concluded, wrapping up the conversation now that he had obtained all the information he required. “You see that door over there?” He asked pointing out with a nod of his head to the wooden door right beside the one from his own chambers.

“Y-Yeah?”

“That will be your room for tonight. Bathe, eat something and get some rest,” he simply ordered.

“I… I have no food…” The tired man answered, awfully famished after having spent almost an entire week living off of that revolting prison gruel he’d been fed as sole means of sustenance.

“Here,” Vegeta remarked, searching inside his armor for one of Bulma’s food capsules and handing it to the earthling. “Get some food in you, we’ll discuss matters in the morning.”

“Thank you, Vegeta,” Krillin responded with honest gratitude, grabbing the capsule and standing from the bench, not without difficulty, under the Saiyan’s watchful eye.

“Those buttons you pressed when we accessed the palace,” he informed intently. “You activated a protective shield around the building. It is high-tech and extremely sensitive, so rest assured that no one will be bothering us tonight. Not without us noticing anyway.”

The human made his way slowly to the door, standing precariously in front of it before giving Vegeta a final questioning glance and realizing that he looked deep in thought still, almost as if there were some final words struggling to fall from his harsh lips.

“Krillin…” He muttered at last, his voice firm but remarkably amiable.

“Yeah?”

“You defended my mate’s honor,” Vegeta stated solemnly, his proud, impenetrable eyes avoiding his as he spoke his startling words of appreciation. “I am indebted to you.”

Krillin gawked at the Prince in utter shock, not only had the arrogant warrior just pronounced his name, probably for the first time since he could recall, but he was now openly proclaiming that Bulma was his partner and, what was even more outrageous, his words surprisingly resembled a statement bursting with gratitude.

“There’s no debt, Vegeta,” the earthling interjected, his face softening into a small but warm smile. “Like I said, Bulma is one of my best friends. We all love and care about her.”

The Prince frowned slightly at Krillin’s frank expression of his feelings towards his woman. The absolute frankness that humans consistently demonstrated would never cease to amaze him, and somehow, a secret part of him sometimes envied their shameless displays of affection towards one another.

“Goodnight Vegeta,” the exhausted man whispered, noticing that the Saiyan had already crossed the line where his comfort zone ended when it came to showing his emotions, and there was nothing left for him to say.

With a curt nod and a grumble, Vegeta said his goodbyes, turning on his heels and heading towards his bedroom, not without pausing to make sure that Krillin had locked himself inside his chambers. Once he felt that that particular matter was taken care of, he got mentally prepared for dealing with the devastated woman awaiting him inside.

_Only to find out that she wasn’t there…_

A fleeting but excruciating flash of panic took hold of him when, after walking into his spacious rooms and verifying that the doors were locked too, he discovered that Bulma wasn’t siting on the bed, right where he’d left her, anymore. But the distant sounds of running water and the hot, thick steam floating heavily in the air instantly revealed that she was inside his private bathroom.

Vegeta ambled cautiously in the direction of his mate’s presence, following a messy trail of what he promptly recognized as Bulma’s damp, muddy clothes, laying carelessly across the soft burgundy carpet.

_The heartbreaking scene taking place before his very eyes left him completely stupefied…_

There, inside the opulent marble shower, a tiny, lonely figure sat on the white stoned floor, clad only in her skimpy underwear. She was pressing her long legs to her chest, her delicate chin leaning on her knees as she rocked gently like a lost, confused child. One of her arms encircled her bent legs protectively, while she anxiously bit on the thumbnail of the other hand, just as she’d done earlier, when they’d been about to land on the planet. She looked completely gone, like the traumatized, shell-shocked victim of the most brutal of all battles, her entire form trembling like a leaf, convulsing in pure stupor.

He stood by the door, stock-still as he contemplated his options. All he wanted to do right now was to reassure her, to bring her back from the state of sheer horror she was submerged in, making her understand that everything would be alright, that he’d pledge, even if it was the last undertaking he’d ever set out to achieve in his entire life, that things would go back to the way they were supposed to be.

So Vegeta made his move, quietly removing his dirty armor, undershirt, gloves and boots and dropping them unceremoniously on the floor, joining her underneath the sizzling stream of hot water.

“Bulma?” He called in the kindest, most soothing voice he could muster, kneeling on the ground so as not to appear intimidating, but not daring to taint her with his disquieting touch just yet.            

Those reddened blue eyes kept stubbornly avoiding his and, for the longest time, he was a bundle of nerves. Her demoralizing silence made him fear that she’d forever be lost to him but, once more, his courageous little woman managed to find the strength to speak to him, even though he knew he didn’t deserve her words anymore, not after the absolute disappointment he’d proven himself to be, yet again.

“It’s my fault…” She whispered sadly, her flawless face contorted in doleful anguish. “This is all my fault…”  

The Saiyan’s eyes widened both in shock and disbelief. He knew the death of the scarred faced human had brought Bulma inconsolable grief, but never had he imagined that it’d also awaken sentiments of guilt inside of her. The vision of his mate taking responsibility for the murder of the weaker man was, not only heartrending, but almost offensive, and the warrior would not, under any circumstances, allow the pure-hearted woman to carry such a heavy burden upon her shoulders.

“What foolishness is this?” He whispered harshly, so much so that he finally caught his staggered woman’s attention, who was now gaping at him, surprised to learn of her lover’s disagreement.

“It is, Vegeta… I…” She whimpered, fresh tears newly pooling in her unhappy eyes. “I should have stopped him… He… He wanted to come and I… I should have said no! I should have…”

The Prince grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her in his direction and bringing her body closer to his.

“Bulma, look at me,” he demanded, in a voice both gentle but inflexible. “You will take no responsibility for this, you hear me? These are _my_ men!”

The grief-stricken woman shook her head nervously in denial, so consumed by guilt that she fully refused to accept her mate blaming himself. “N-No, Vegeta…. No! It was my…”

Vegeta’s large, strong hands cupped her face delicately, the tender touch of his rough thumbs gingerly caressing her wet, rosy cheeks calming her almost instantly. He pressed his brow against hers, uttering a soft whisper on her anxious lips.

“This wasn’t your fault, Bulma. _None_ of this was your fault.”

His dark, uncompromising eyes and the obstinance lacing his voice left no room for argument, and Bulma merely assented timidly, losing herself in his burning gaze. If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost dare to say that it was he the one thoroughly overcome by guilt this time, but as always, her Saiyan remained an indecipherable enigma to her.

“He’s gone…” She lamented miserably, her small nails digging meekly into his bare chest. “He’s gone, Vegeta…”

His unblinking eyes examined her closely, struggling to suppress that disturbing, troublesome pressure that crushed his chest without mercy whenever he was forced to witness _his_ Bulma in tears, and all that was left for him to do was to ask the only question worth asking.  

“Do you trust me, Bulma?”

Bulma frowned and looked at him, promptly grasping the importance of her future answer. There was a rare tinge of distress thinly veiled behind the familiar intensity of his gestures and, without the shadow of a doubt, she vanished those unwelcomed fears forever with two simple words.

“I do,” she quickly replied, her voice soft but unwavering, deeply moved when a manifest sign of relief crossed his tense features, making her finally realize that the warrior was feeling just as remorseful about her friend’s terrible misfortune as she was.

“Then mark my words, woman,” Vegeta whispered, lifting her chin carefully as his warm breath ghosted her trembling lips. “I will fix things.”

The exquisite woman sobbed in a delightful mixture of sorrow and relief, and she crushed her lips against her lover’s, drinking in his secret promise and sealing it with a binding kiss. Even though some of Vegeta’s mysteries had slowly unraveled just for her, she’d never know just how elated her Prince was to know that, against all odds, he still possessed her unshakeable trust. A trust he knew he didn’t deserve, but which he’d grown to value and cherish more than he’d ever care to admit, and only because it emanated from his woman’s bright heart.

Both lovers kissed for countless minutes, kneeling precariously underneath the warm stream of water as they held onto each other for dear life. Through his callous hands, caressing her enticing, ivory skin and melding her softness against him, and her long fingers urgently clutching the nape of his neck, they reminded each other that they were still _alive_ , as they desperately clung, together, to the heartening thread of hope of Vegeta’s promising vow.   

“I will make things right again,” he whispered ardently in her ear, feeling her pull him even closer as she buried her face in the crook of his neck, wanting nothing more than to hide from the cruel world they were living in, getting lost forever within his protectively fierce embrace.

“You have my promise, Bulma…”  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me...
> 
> *sigh*
> 
> In the next chapter, Vegeta will reveal his plan to Bulma and they'll both begin its execution...


End file.
